#nqjchess

[notquitejiraiya]

Chess [28] - {ShikaTema AU}

Hey, hi, hello. I’m here, I’m alive, and I’m stuck inside my house like every other poor soul on the planet. So what excuses did I have to not finish off Chapter 28? Absolutely none.

This is possibly the dumbest chapter of this fic yet, but I figured everybody was probably in need of something a bit more lighthearted right now so...

I hope that everyone is doing ok, and give my absolute best to you all! You can do it - keep safe please :))

[READ/COMMENT ON AO3]

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Shikamaru pulled one of Kankuro’s hoodies over his messy hair with a grimace, and wiped the remaining sweat off his brow. “Are you sure I should be wearing this?” He felt dirty, and not just because of what the two of them had just done—again—that had actually been far less reckless than the first occasion, thank you very much.

But it didn’t feel right at all to be wearing this while his own jumper dried. “Not sure I’m totally comfortable with this, Tem. Don’t you have anything that doesn’t belong to your brothers?”

Pushing her own hair from her eyes, Temari raised her eyebrows. “You might’ve noticed that I’m a woman, and so I don’t exactly go out of my way to own many men’s clothes.”

He shoved his hands into the big pocket in the centre of the black hoodie and rolled his eyes to the back of his head. The Temari he knew best was back in the room, and even through her undeniably rose-tinted glasses she had to admit it was absolutely huge on him. It did look ridiculous. Maybe, now she thought about it, it was a little weird for him to wear that.

She jumped off the bed and toward her wardrobe. “You know what? You’re skinny…” Frantically she sifted through the bottom of the unit and pulled out a lavender sweatshirt. “So you’ll probably fit in this one. Take that off.” 

“Christ,” he mumbled, pulling it over his head and dropping it on the bed. “Quickly though, woman, I’m freezing.”

Temari shook her head as she threw the jumper at him. She watched intently as he put it on, and his torso disappeared from view once more. Blinking herself out of her stare, she saw how his eyebrows had raised.

“You aren’t subtle, are you?”

“Excuse me,” she spat. “You didn’t have to come up here!”

A smile spread across his expression. “I basically did,” he scoffed, sitting back down on her bed. “You begged me to stay.”

“And you listened. Could’ve ignored me.” Temari squinted at him, sarky as anything, and her hips swayed as she walked out of the door. She thought about putting some trousers on before she braved the hallway, but something in her wanted the satisfaction of his jaw dropping as she sauntered out, and while she couldn’t see it, the clearing of his throat told her enough. “Back in a minute.”

“W-where are you going?” he stuttered.

“Just put some trousers on.”

“Wow—hypocritical woman.”

“This is my house!”

She slammed the bathroom door with a giggle and scurried over to the sink. Immediately her reflection caught her, and her gut felt empty. What was she doing? Why had she done that—again? Last time it was him, and she’d kept some of her dignity knowing that, but this time it was entirely on her. The smudged eyeliner, the patches of missing foundation, and the mess that sat atop her head: all of it screamed mistake.

But she could not, for the life of her, stop smiling.

With a simple flick of the wrist the tap was on, and she wiped away the mess on her face, slapping her cheeks a couple of times to remind herself how real this was. She tore a brush through the messy hair and let it all fall how it wanted, perfectly aware that she didn’t have the necessary equipment at hand to tame it. Not once did she think about the fact that, as of yet, the man currently perched in her bedroom would’ve seen her in every state after she stepped out of that door, but the nervous smile on her face remained. Temari cared so much what he thought of her, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that when she walked out of the bathroom she would be met with the same grateful and somehow unenthusiastic eyes. And she knew that behind that look was a great deal more care than he could visually express. But he didn’t need to. She knew.

Temari slapped her cheeks once again and rubbed her eyes, when she suddenly heard muffled shout followed by a loud click.

Her heart sunk, and her stomach flipped.

The door.

That meant one of two things: either he’d gone, which given his general manner was a possibility but a slim one, or someone was home. The latter meant hoping and praying with her whole being that she had shut her bedroom door behind her, Shikamaru had heard and thus hidden himself away, and—most importantly of all—it wasn’t Kankuro.

Without a moment to spare, Temari flushed the toilet and threw open the bathroom door, looking around, only to find Gaara stood in the doorway of her bedroom up the hall, a somewhat disgruntled look on his face. He turned to her, astonished, and shook his head.

Oh, thank God. Gaara.

“Gaara…” she repeated out loud, barefoot and easing towards him.

“Temari,” he replied. He beckoned her closer, and she obeyed regretfully, her head hanging slightly, and every ounce of pride she’d felt as she looked in the mirror a moment ago had gone. When she was finally close enough, he pulled her into a massive hug and buried his face in her neck.

She frowned, and peered over his shoulder into her room. A lump of black hair peered over the edge of the bed and immediately ducked down.

Thank god, she thought, sighing with relief as she caressed her brothers back slightly.

“Whats the matter?” she whispered. “Was it your date?”

Gaara didn’t seem as though he was going to cry or anything, he just felt floppy in her arms. “Yes,” he mumbled. “He was utterly bonkers.”

Shikamaru was spying again and frowned. He started miming spirals around his head, and Temari mouthed a stern ‘shut up’ before forcing her attention back to Gaara. “Was it that bad?”

“Not at all, and I suppose that’s the problem,” sighed Gaara. “I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting, but part way through eating I started worrying, because this man was properly strange and yet there I was; totally up for it.”

“Been there,” she chuckled. This, unsurprisingly, earned an eye-roll from her hidden companion.

“But really,” said Gaara, “it felt so wrong for me to feel suited to someone like that; somebody so loud and so extroverted. He was so lively, so cheery, and he was constantly talking—I barely even got a word in.”

Temari pulled away from their hug, giving Shikamaru a subtle glare as she did. “Sounds a bit self absorbed if you ask me.”

“No, not at all!” he insisted, slightly bashful. “Whenever I did speak he looked at me like what I was saying could not have been anymore important. It felt…” Gaara paused and looked into her room. “It felt easy, you know?”

“Good!” She smiled, genuinely happy that her brother had found somebody who showed promise in caring about him in the right way. “Well, I’m glad you had a great date.”

He nodded. “You, too.”

Temari scrunched up her face. “What do you mean?”

“With Shikamaru,” Gaara clarified. He crossed his arms and sighed. “That is where you went today, isn’t it?”

She had nothing to say for herself except trying, “Um…no?”

“You can come out, Shikamaru, if that is you,” Gaara sighed, and gave his sister a sombre smile. “You gave it a good go, but I knew as soon as I saw the jumper on the bed.”

With an awkward shuffle, Shikamaru got to his knees, but he daren’t stand up. Temari was glad for this unexpected awkwardness, but only in that moment did she realise that lack of trousers on her legs, and thus how what Shikamaru was doing it made the situation somehow more awkward.

The silence was unbearable, and as Gaara looked from her to Shikamaru, awkwardly rubbing his neck as he always seemed to be, Temari couldn’t bear it. She started to awkwardly chuckle and leant against the doorway. “It isn’t what it looks like.”

“Temari,” warned Gaara, “I’d argue it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“Hey, man.”

Temari’s eyes shot to Shikamaru, giving him a ‘shut-your-damn-mouth’ look, but he didn’t seem capable of paying any attention to it. The awkwardness had failed, and the oddly carefree bluntness was shining through. 

“Shikamaru,” he smiled, holding out his hand across the bed. “It’s nice to finally meet you, you know, not over a phone.”

Gaara walked deeper into the room, leant over and shook his hand giving a sort of polite grunt in response. Meanwhile Temari stood on the sidelines, feeling undoubtedly like an idiot and by no means ready to be made an example of by her younger sibling.

“I’m assuming,” Gaara said, “that, like my sister, you are in fact not wearing trousers.”

Shikamaru’s mouth fell agape, and he spent the next ten seconds wrestling with his hair to get it up into a ponytail. “Well, erm…”

“Yes, okay, I thought as much.”

Temari hated the fact she couldn’t see Gaara’s face, but she knew if it was bad when he turned around she would probably cry. That wasn’t exactly something she wanted to do right now. Sure, in front of Shikamaru there had been the odd tear this evening alone, but no full on guilty sobbing, and that’s what she could feel brewing.

But then she saw Shikamaru looking at her and start biting his lip. He could see she was embarrassed, couldn’t he? He could tell she was uncomfortable, for sure, almost as uncomfortable as he appeared to be. Something was happening to his eyes that terrified her, and she new before he even moved that she was going to be powerless to this man’s stupidity all over again.

As he started to stand up she felt her eyes widening, and she almost ran towards him to get him to stop, but she was frozen solid.

And so there he was, just standing there at the far end of her bedroom in her purple jumper—which somehow still looked too big for him—and his boxers, arms crossed over his chest at the loss of pockets. How in any part of his mind was this a solution? How could he possibly think this could make anything better? What was worse was that Temari could see the ticking behind his tired eyes as he clearly scanned his own brain for a reason why he’d done this. He even opened his mouth to speak at one point, but a mere squeak came out, and Temari almost choked.

Suddenly Gaara’s shoulders started to quiver, and Temari felt herself creeping forward. “What?” she queried, grabbing a pair of joggers off her floor. “Gaara, what?”

He almost squeaked as he started speaking, and only then did she register it was a laugh. “I come home to find my sister and her boyfriend mid way through fornicating—”

She winced. “Oh, Gaara, any word but that one please.”

“Boyfriend or fornicating?”

“Both!”

Gaara cleared his throat and tried to calm down a little, but Temari could now see him chewing the inside of his cheek. “But then he shakes my hand and stands up whilst he has no trousers on, as if he has absolutely no shame.”

“Oh, man,” Shikamaru grimaced. “I can promise you I am utterly full of shame.”

“For what? Being with my sister?”

At this point Temari could see what was happening, and thought it best it ended right now. “Shikamaru…”

“No, no, not at all, mate,” he pandered. “I, um, we’re not actually…together. That wouldn’t be right, I just…we didn’t even, um—I just…” His eyes fluttered to the radiator on which his jeans were. “My clothes got wet, while we were out, so Tem—I mean Temari said I could borrow something?”

Temari sat down on her bed and rubbed her eyes. “Shikamaru, don’t bother. He’s a lawyer.”

“Fuck.”

At this point, Gaara somehow still seemed amused—happy even. Clearly he wasn’t quite impressed with the situation, but he didn’t look angry. This—the game of guilt he was playing with Shikamaru—was just one of his twisted interviews he liked to give people, thinking they were funny.

“Look, man, I’m sorry,” pleased Shikamaru. “I didn’t mean to offend anybody, ok? God this is just such a pain, I’m sorry, man.”

Gaara frowned. “Why?”

“Shikamaru, stop grovelling,” Temari sighed. “He’s not mad at you, he’s just being an asshole.”

“Excuse me, dear sister?”

“Come on, you know you are,” she groaned, punching him gently in the gut before looking back at Shikamaru’s worried expression. “Relax. He does this.”

Shikamaru hardly looked at ease, but he nodded and frowned slightly. “Can you pass me my jeans so I can pretend I didn’t just meet your brother in my underwear?”

“Don’t bother,” Gaara chuckled. “Would you mind if I had a word with my sister, however?”

His eyes shifted to Temari who nodded precariously. “Sure.” He sad back down behind the bed, sinking down into what she would only assume was a puddle of inconsolable embarrassment—that’s how she’d feel in his shoes—as Gaara dragged her into the hallway.

“What were you thinking?” he whispered at her, shutting the door.

Temari groaned and rubbed her eyes. “I know, I know—I’m shameful, you don’t need to tell me.”

“No, I didn’t mean doing him again.” Gaara blushed, as if he actually felt awkward. “I meant bringing him back here.”

“What?”

“What if Kankuro was here?”

“But he’s not,” she retorted. “I knew you were both out, I’m not stupid.”

“To be honest with you, Temari,” Gaara sighed, “I feel really bad for that man.”

“You’re not mad at him?”

“Mad at him? For what?”

“I don’t know, for sleeping with your sister?”

Gaara shook his head, chuckling. “No, what you guys do isn’t my business,” he said, calmly and matter-of-factly. “However, he didn’t deserve to have to meet me in his pants.”

“You say that to me like I had any idea this would happen.”

“Would you have liked to meet his sister in your bra?”

“He doesn’t have a sister.”

“Mother, then.”

Temari rolled her eyes. “That’s completely different, Gaara.”

“How is it different?” he shot back. “I apologise if I seemed harsh on him, I was merely trying to lighten the mood, but it seemed clear to me that he wanted to make a good impression.”

“You think?” she laughed. “Why would he want to do that?”

Her brother frowned and stepped back from her. “I would think because he cares about you, and he wants to stick around?”

She deflated her stiff shoulders and leant against the wall. “As if.”

“He could have left by now, Temari, but he’s waiting patiently in that room.”

“He’s just too awkward to leave, Gaara. Who wouldn’t want to after that?”

There was a slight gentle knock from inside her room, and the door creaked open the slightest crack to reveal Shikamaru in all his lanky glory, hands safely in pockets of his jeans—thank god he’d clothed himself—biting on his lip. “I’m sorry I fucked up. This really isn’t how I wanted to meet you, man,” Shikamaru sighed. “And I’m sorry, Tem, that this is how I am. I don’t know what to do in the moment without a plan.”

Temari closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She slowly reached out and tugged on his pretty purple sleeve slightly. “It’s fine. You need a smoke?”

He nodded, leaning against the threshold. “If you want me to go home, I can. Either of you, that is.”

“Nonsense,” interjected Gaara, before Temari could even get a word in. “There’s a huge window in my room that opens out a great deal. Just sit by that—no need to go out into the cold then.”

Shikamaru nodded. “Thanks, man,” he said, fishing a cigarette from his pocket and placing it between his lips. “You really don’t have to.”

“I repeat: nonsense. Just shut it when you’re done.” Gaara smiled softly and point in the direction of his bedroom.

As Shikamaru raised a hand in recognition, Temari engulfed her little brother in a huge hug, squeezing so tight Gaara was unsure she’d ever let go. She kissed his forehead and ruffled his hair a little bit with a big grin. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much for not being mad at him.”

Gaara shrugged and elbowed her. “We all know I’m the cool brother,” he joked, and stepped back towards the stairs. “Besides, he is pretty attractive, I cannot blame you. Keep hold of him.”

“We aren’t together Gaara,” she groaned, rolling her eyes.

“Nobody is buying that.”

“Shut up.”

She looked over toward him, perched on the windowsill and exhaling a drastic amount of smoke out into the night air. Even now he had his jeans back on, she couldn’t expel the picture of him stood stiffly without them, staring awkwardly at her brother, and she started to chuckle as she heard Gaara patter down the stairs.

“Are you seriously laughing at me?” she heard him muttered. His dark eyes shot her way, half-open with the slightest mischievous glimmer, and she immediately giggled. “You are. What a bitch.”

Temari’s eyes widened. “Wow, brave move from the man who thought that was a good move!” She shuffled into Gaara’s bedroom, feeling the cold of his wooden floors hit her toes and work its way up her bare legs. As she moved closer she slipped on the joggers in her hands before reaching out to him. “Gimme.”

“Give you what? My hand?”

She blushed. “The cigarette, idiot.” He held it out and she snatched it, perching herself beside him. “That really was,” she said between tokes, “the most stupid I’ve ever seen you.”

Shikamaru rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d argue but let’s be real here, I haven’t got a leg to stand on, have I?” She shook her head and he immediately began to chuckle. “I think I know why I did it.”

“No…” Temari exhaled and handed it back to him, shaking her head. “There cannot be any real cognitive thought gone into that. I refuse to believe it.”

The laugh he had barely dwindled as he puffed on the cigarette and tapped the ash outside. “Sadly, yeah.” His eyes focused in on her and pulled the corners of his mouth up into a massive great big smile. “You looked so embarrassed, you know?”

She cocked her head at him. “Why does that mean you do that?” She was doing an awful job of containing her giggles. “Surely then you keep your legs very much hidden behind the bed?”

“Yeah, right,” he chuckled, blushing. “You’re completely right, but apparently my brain went awol and decided I needed to make myself as embarrassed as you looked.” He took a long drag and hung his head, shaking it as he laughed out the smoke. “As if that would have actually made you feel any better.”

“You wanted to be embarrassed?” she laughed. “Are you ill?”

“I don’t know—you tell me!” He dropped the dying cigarette out the window into the rain after one final puff. “Forget it.”

“I can’t do that.”

“No, ‘course you bloody can’t.”

Temari giggled, unable to focus on anything but his eyes and how genuinely happy they were. If he had really stood up to try and embarrass himself—so that the two of them were then ‘in it together’ if you will—then that was the most ridiculous and sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. And, frankly, she wasn’t sure how to process that. She wouldn’t have done that—the thought wouldn’t even have crossed her mind! But her mind wasn’t like Shikamaru’s. It was far less complex, and obviously far less daft at times, and perhaps, she thought, even a little more selfish.

She stepped a closer to him, the tips of her toes touching his, and she looked up at him. Her eyes were narrow, her lips pouted slightly. “Shikamaru,” she said.

“Tem?”

“I’m not gonna lie, I am not so good a person that I would meet your family in my underwear to make you feel less of an idiot.” She raised her eyebrows. “Partially because it doesn’t work, but also I’m just not up for it, alright?”

He smirked. “I totally understand.”

“I will wear clothes that belong to me and cover what needs to be covered.”

“And I’m sure they will be very grateful.”

She could feel his hand encroaching on the small of her back, and she wriggled a little closer into his grip, resting her head on his chest. Her arms weaved round his torso as her mouth settled into a smile. “Thank you, though,” she told him. “For not wanting me to feel alone.”

Shikamaru shook his head with a smile, and buried his face in her hair. “You always stop me feeling alone. It’s the least I could fail to do.”

The two of them laughed softly, Shikamaru pressing a kiss on the top of her head as his eyes opened to the room of a stranger. He held her closed to him and felt all the warmer despite his wet trousers with her sweetly giggling with him.

When a figure appeared in the doorway with a mug of tea in his hands and a wide, proud smile, Shikamaru noticed only one of those things. And, with it, he proudly pressed an even more sincere kiss onto the woman’s forehead as she pried herself away from him. He looked down into his favourite colour, that miraculous shade of so many different hues amalgamated into the perfect shade, and smiled.

“You work at a florist,” said Gaara from the doorway. “Can I be a pain and ask you to put aside four litres of soil for me on Monday?”

Temari’s head turned to shush her brother, but Shikamaru’s eyes didn’t move an inch, and over the woman’s squabbles he said a loud, “Yeah, man—no worries.”

“Shikamaru, don’t. He’s just trying to interfere.”

Shikamaru shrugged and rubbed the small of her back. Time slowed, almost to a halt, as she looked back at him and frowned. Every little wrinkle around her skeptical eyes, the frustrated smirk worming its way onto her lips, it all pointed him in the direction of some overwhelming—and really quite terrifying—feeling.

Oh, fuck, he realised as she starting laughing again, squeezing his hands once and turning away. Holy fuck.

“Are you coming downstairs with us then?” Temari teased, strolling out of the room, and looking back at him when he didn’t move. “You alright?”

He nodded feebly and tucked his hand back in his pocket to grab the familiar cardboard carton. “Fine. I’ll be down in a sec.”

Temari nodded and sauntered off with a smile, but Gaara hung back, and the eyes of both men locked for a second. “You sure everything is ok?” asked the redhead calmly. “You look  a it shaken all of a sudden.”

The flame of Shikamaru’s cheap, plastic illuminated his face for a moment as they stared. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but Shikamaru didn’t know what to say. He felt far too flooded with emotions to reply, but it was weird not to. “Yeah, I’m sound,” he smiled, raising his hand in a little salute. “Don’t worry about me.”

“She can be a bit of a handful,” observed Gaara, “but it’s worth it.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” he chuckled.

Gaara nodded. “She’s the best sister in the world.”

Shikamaru smiled. “I’ll be down in a sec, mate.”

“She cares a lot about you, Shikamaru,” he told him, a hint of warning in his voice. “I’m sure you feel similarly.” Before he could reply, Gaara nodded. “I know, don’t worry. I’ve been where you are—it’s hard to know how to feel.”

The unlit cigarette between Shikamaru’s fingertips shuddered. “It was,” he mumbled, “but now I don’t know…”

Gaara smiled and took a sip of his tea. “I didn’t say this, and I’m not encouraging you, but you are allowed to feel it.”

Before then Shikamaru might’ve asked what ‘it’ was, or shrugged his shoulders at the man, but he didn’t need to do that any more. Instead he smiled and lit his cigarette, nodding at the kind-hearted soul in the doorway, because he did know, and he did feel it. There was no reason to fear or deny it anymore.

There was no chance in hell he was going to be able to tell her or anyone, and it terrified him to his very core. There wasn’t some sudden extra warmth in his heart, or an overwhelming sense that his life was never going to be the same. It was just suddenly there, at the forefront of his mind, impossible to ignore. He hated it, and he never wanted it to change.

He loved her—with every part of his being he loved her, more than he’d ever loved anything. And now he felt it, he physically couldn’t stop feeling it.

But, as his brain always did, it focused in on the most pressing detail of this new situation. He would have to stop, for one of the millions of reasons it wasn’t right. Worse than that, was the fact that he couldn’t even imagine how he’d do that.

#this fic is over 100000 words now oh boi #apologies for the wait #love you all #keep safe #wash those damn hands pls #nqjchess #chess #shikamaru #temari #nara #shikatema #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #forbidden romance #love #friendship #gaara #Sabaku No Temari #sabaku no gaara

[notquitejiraiya]

Chess [27] - {ShikaTema AU}

I have no excuses, but hopefully my rustiness and likely mistakes in this can be forgiven. All my love: enjoy :)

[READ ON AO3]

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“You’ve gotta have an oral fixation.”

“Chōji…” 

“But really. You have to. I look away for one minute and you’ve stolen a straw from behind the bar and you’re chewing on it!”

Temari tried to hold back a giggle, and upon failing set off Chōji. He started to go red as he snorted.

“I just wanted a straw.” There was an innocent, yet far too defensive tone to his voice.

Eyebrows were raised around them, not least by the barman. “But not to drink with?”

Shikamaru frowned, as though he genuinely didn’t understand. “What’s the matter with that?”

“We don’t give them out for people to chew on, mate.”

“Then don’t bloody make them out of paper!”

Temari took a sip on the straw, poked innocently into her cocktail, which had caused such an unexpected fuss and watched as Shikamaru chewed on his lip as his best friend nattered away. Suddenly he reached across the bar and snatched the straw from Shikamaru’s grip, earning an exasperated sigh from him, and an undeniable giggle from Temari.

Like the drive they had taken, their walk to the pub had been fairly short and sweet, but seemingly uneventful. The slight spots of rain that came with January weren’t exactly welcome, but they were easily ignored when he was beside her, hand in pockets and puffing out smoke like a bloody train. While she scurried along, wrapped in her hood and desperate to keep warm, she almost asked him for a drag once or twice, but there was something about the serenity of the silence between them—hearing only the spots of rain and tyres hitting puddles periodically—that was too pure to be broken. He had looked happy, despite it all; happier than he had ever looked.

Enjoy the silence, she had told him, and she had to listen to herself.

Still, that didn’t mean when his knuckles brushed against hers she didn’t let out a soft breath and bite her tongue when wanting it to last forever.

Upon getting to the pub amongst the hustle and bustle of a rough Saturday night, Shikamaru had made a beeline for Chōji the minute he’d locked eyes on him. Temari has pottered over at half the speed, but ever since they had been perched on the same bar stools with her fingers always wrapped around a drink—or at this current time, a pitcher.

Once or twice Chōji would shoot Temari a knowing look, always accompanied by a smile. She hoped that what she was seeing was gratitude, for being there for his friend and seemingly helping him. From her impression of the man she assumed negative emotions didn’t exactly come easy to Chōji, and she’d smile back within a second, hoping she was right.

Meanwhile, as one of these looks took place once more, Chōji running his mouth off at Shikamaru for was reaching for a second straw, their common interest was growing restless. He could see the looks his friends shared; he wasn’t stupid and he also wasn’t blind. Their lack of subtlety would’ve been funny if it weren’t laced with unwanted pity disguised as amity, and the water in his hand was growing tiresome after the third glass.

He wanted a drink—a proper drink. Not to drown sorrows or to pretend everything was okay, but just to join in. The smile on Temari’s face was so wide, so beautiful, and as her lips wrapped around that straw he wanted nothing less than to taste what she did, whatever concoction sat in her pitcher. He couldn’t help watching as she took another long sip, watching Chōji try to stack twelve glasses with little success, and wishing that he could just pull her face towards him, closer and closer; so close no space was left between them...

No, he was wrong. He didn’t want alcohol. He wanted her.

With that realisation came the familiar feeling of burning red ears, and he prayed the others wouldn’t notice his embarrassment amidst the dim lights. With a smile he look down at his water and sloshed it around in his glass, remembering the feeling of holding her hand earlier on. He thought of the rain that still pelted down outside, and how bundled up she’d been like a khaki Michelin Man, kicking leaves with her boots. Suddenly all he could see in the water was her face, smiling at him as the rain drenched the front of her hair, blonde bleeding into brown with wet.

“Chōji?” Temari asked, finally speaking. “Can you just give him another straw please before he tops himself?”

Shikamaru smiled. Insensitive, he thought, why the fuck am I not angry with her for that?

“No, he can’t. I have a right to refuse service.”

Her eyes rolled, letting her palm rest on his kneecap. “Service of drinks, yes. Does it really need to apply to straws?”

“You bet it does if I want it to,” be laughed. “I refuse to sell Shikamaru anything but soft drinks—always—on principle. And after last time I told the other staff not to as well.”

“Because you’re a pain,” interjected Shikamaru, raising his water in 

“And,” he continued, “he won’t go to another pub because he only comes out to hang out with me, so no point. Thank me later.”

Temari shook her head, shifting her eyes to lock with Shikamaru’s. Her fingertips crept above his knee. “That’s no cure for alcoholism,” she chuckled, “but you’re a good friend.”

Chōji smirked. “Speaking of being a good friend, Shikamaru…”

He didn’t look to his friend, he was far too distracted by her eyes, and how they somehow looked violet in this light.

“Shikamaru?”

There was no chance his eyes could be torn from the woman before him as hers fingers danced up his thigh, a million different colours flickering across her under the lights and her pupils getting larger by the second.

“Shikamaru, do you want a smoke?”

If he didn’t stop her soon he was going to have to drag her elsewhere, but it was so hard not to be utterly captivated. She was too beautiful, too full of excitement from her pitchers, for him not to savour the way she looked at him. He felt like the only person in the room.

His weakness prevailed. “Nah, I’m good man.”

Chōji was getting desperate, and with a huff pulled out a straw from behind the bar. Thrusting it into Shikamaru’s hand, he tapped on the bar with rough knuckles and coughed. “I need a word, man. Come on?”

With an awkward cough and a guilty feeling building in the pit of his stomach, Shikamaru squeezed Temari’s fingers gently and lifted them up as he pulled his gaze away from her. He hopped down off of the stool and followed Chōji as he weaved through the crowds toward the door, somewhat glad to have been drawn away from her. After all the last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of her, and he was almost grateful to the freezing rain as he stepped outside, waking him up and reminding him it wasn’t his job to yearn for Temari every second of the day—not that that was stopping him.

Shikamaru’s thoughts, however, were unknown to the woman they’d left behind, and she couldn’t help feeling abandoned as they scurried outside into the cold. She almost texted Gaara and explained what was happening, but he was on a date, wasn’t he? She couldn’t interrupt that, it wouldn’t be fair. Not after all the stick she’d given him as a teenager for getting involved in her business all the time. Now it felt wrong not to involve him in everything, and tipsy Temari even thought for a second that she should ring him after all, and invite him and his date here.

But who was she kidding? That was a terrible idea. She could just about see her reflection in the mirror behind the spirits as she looked over the bar, and immediately decided that this pitcher would be her last one. Tonight was not to be the second night she was helped home by Shikamaru in a drunken state. Tonight would be the night she kept her cool, wasn’t eating pasta out of a saucepan at midnight and might even pay for his taxi back home. However, it had crossed her mind as she stared herself out that given her free house that was currently empty of brothers, he needn’t call a cab, or at least not one from here. He could come to hers, shelter from the rain for a while if he wanted to, for as long as he wanted to…

Oh, honestly, girl! Pull yourself together! She took a deep breath and shut her eyes. Send him home. You can do without another evening overcomplicating everything.

But despite her inner pep-talk, when Chōji re-entered seconds later without Shikamaru in tow, Temari’s fuzzy brain barely held in a whimper. But, as he jogged towards her with such intention in his eyes, she couldn’t help frowning and adjusted her position on the stool. “Is everything alright?”

“More than alright.” He came to a stop just in front of her and leaned against the bar. “He’s better than I’ve seen him in years, Temari,” he added with a soft smile.

She started to blush ever so slightly, but she could see the slight frown on his face. “Whats wrong then”

Chōji coughed, biting on his lip. “You did do it, didn’t you?”

Her eyes widened and her cheeks grew crimson in a flash. “Do it? Do what?”

“You know,” he chuckled awkwardly.

“I can guarantee I don’t.” Temari tucked a stray hair behind her ear and took a shaky breath. He cannot be talking about Thursday, she told herself. Shikamaru would never have told him, would he? “What did I do?”

“You took him to see Mrs Sarutobi, didn’t you?”

Only some of the nerves subsided, but she felt her shoulders loosen as she nodded. “We did,” she sighed. “It didn’t go too badly, but still can’t tell if it was actually the right thing to do, Chōji.”

“Thank you,” Chōji mumbled before pulling Temari into the tightest, quickest hug she’d ever had. “You’re good for him. Have another pitcher on me.”

And before Temari could reply, or thank him for his generosity in supplying alcohol she didn’t need, he was flying out the door and she watched it close with a soft thud.

~~~

When Chōji flung open the door and hopped back outside, a big grin across his face, an unimpressed Shikamaru who was now soaked to the bone was already half-way through his cigarette. He raised his eyebrows as a hello and huffed.

“I thought you were getting me my coat, man.”

His friend smirked and shook his head. “You don’t need it. We won’t be out here much longer.”

“I’m already soaking, Choji.”

“You wear t-shirts in December, Captain Hypothermia. You can live with some rain,” Choji spluttered, crossing his arms and bouncing slightly on the spot. He had to admit that it definitely wasn’t warm out here, but there were bigger issues at hand.

Shikamaru took a long drag of his cigarette as a piece of wet hair smacked him in the eye, he winced as he let out the smoke and rubbed the eye in question. “What do you want to talk about then?”

There was a moment silence, and Shikamaru knew the smirk building on Choji’s lips did not bode well. 

“So you’re together now, right?”

He scoffed and shook his head, hooking his thumb inside the cuff of his sleeve. “C’mon, man…”

“You’ve shagged. Obviously.”

If he hadn’t been expecting it, Shikamaru would’ve most certainly choked on thin air. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. “Chōji…”

“That’s an answer, for sure.”

He let his foot tap at a particularly interesting brick on the wall, unable to look his friend in the eye. “We aren’t together, okay?”

“But you have shagged. Definitely.”

“Can you stop?” When he looked up, Choji looked proud beyond belief. It was as if he thought this was his doing that Shikamaru had found someone of the opposite sex who he didn’t find totally unbearable more than fifty-percent of the time. “What’re you so pleased with yourself about, eh?”

The bigger man shrugged, smug as anything. “Nothing, really,” he mused, with the most irritating snigger at the back of his throat. “Just that my pal has found the future mother of his children.”

Now Shikamaru was choking, and kicked the wall just a little too hard. “Fuck!” he hissed. “I’ve known her like a month, man—get a grip!” He took another drag and bit the bullet, leaning against the freezing cold brickwork. “You’re more invested in this than I am.”

“I wouldn’t let her hear you say that. Won’t be getting anymore, will you?”

“How do you even know about that?” He was finding it progressively harder to keep his tone one he’d want to hear if the tables were turned, but his friend was driving him nuts. “Did she tell you?”

“As good as,” Choji laughed. “I asked her if you guys had gone and done it and she went bright red.”

Shikamaru almost snarled, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. “What planet are you from, man? How’s that even slightly acceptable to—”

“Relax!” He hurried closer and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I meant if you’d gone to Mrs Sarutobi’s today, not anything more. I’m not an animal.”

I beg to differ, the dark-haired man thought to himself. He looked up and raised his eyebrows. The temptation to put out his cigarette on Choji’s stupid apron was overwhelming but he managed not to, and simply took one last drag and let it fall to the floor, drowned by rain. “You knew about that, then?” he asked, barely getting the words out.

Choji nodded slowly and pulled his friend in for a hug. “She mentioned it before and I knew it would help.”

“You thought so?”

“Of course, and I was right.”

Shikamaru let his right arm encircle his friend’s larger frame and tapped him on the back. “She helps me, for sure. More than anyone ever has.”

“I can see that for myself,” he said with a smile as he pulled away. “I’m glad it went okay.”

“Me, too, man,” nodded Shikamaru, leaning back against the wall. “But can I ask you a favour?”

“Shoot.”

“I beg you to stop being weird about her.”

Choji looked affronted. “I’m not weird!”

“Going on about…you know…”

“Someone’s embarrassed.”

“Yeah, actually,” Shikamaru sighed. “I am embarrassed, really fucking embarrassed that I just stormed into her office and did that.” He kicked at the brick again. “I’m not like that, man, I don’t do that. And if that’s who she thinks I am now, I’ve fucked it.”

There was a moment where Shikamaru wondered if he’d split the conversation apart, to a point where Choji felt too awkward to put the pieces back together for him. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them, as if by magic he thought that upon opening everything it would make what he’d just said disappear, and the sad atmosphere he’d created just float away.  However, it seemed that Shikamaru had forgotten his friend’s ability to make everything that was awkward for someone else feel like a breeze, and when Choji wrapped his arm around his shoulders, there was a jolt through them. He was waiting for his friend to say something equally as inappropriate as he previously had been as he stared down at his feet.

But he didn’t.

“Chin up, mate,” he said softly, nudging Shikamaru. “She went with you today and sat there, listened to you, helped you out…you think that if you’ve fucked it she’d do that?”

While he felt a little better, it didn’t fill the entire hole he’d dug himself. “I mean I’m not spontaneous like that, never have been and I never will be. I can’t be bothered, can I? I’d rather just sit on my own and—”

“But you were,” interjected Choji. “You were spontaneous. So yes you are.”

Shikamaru slowly nodded. “You’re wrong, but thank you.”

“No worries, man.” He slapped Shikamaru’s back and followed him back to the door. “SO did you shag in her office.”

“Say ‘shag’ one more time and I’ll push you in the road.”

“Table? Chair?”

“Choji?”

He stopped, scratching at the light brown stubble on his chin humorously. “Bet it was the chair.”

Shikamaru shoved him sideways, shaking his head as he sighed and said with great pleasure, though you wouldn’t know it from his monotone voice, “Table.”

He regretted not waiting to see Choji’s dumbfounded expression before heading back inside, and catching her eyes once more.

~~~

By the time another hour had disappeared so had many people and another pitcher, but as Temari gathered her things to leave she felt surprisingly sober. Not as sober as Shikamaru clearly was, however, and as his lips parted slightly as he laughed at Chōji’s poor choice of jokes, his eyes rolled to the back of his head for the same split second. Temari couldn’t stop staring. She hopped to her feet and threw on her coat, forcing her arms in and zipping up quickly. For a moment she’d contemplated offering him her coat given how he was still sopping wet from his last cigarette break, but she knew he wouldn’t take her up on the offer. After all, he had a coat, waterproof or not, and it wasn’t like him to see her go without anything.

She watched as he chewed on the end of yet another paper straw, something she’d never have expected from him, and when he turned to look at her, a kindhearted yet utterly devilish look in his eyes, she wanted nothing less than to steal him away.

Then he winked, and the deal was sealed.

“Is there any chance you could walk me home?” she asked, feebly interrupting the two of them. Where her spunk had gone she had no idea—never had she asked such a question and felt so vulnerable in doing so. It felt foreign and weird, she hated it and adored it all at once. “I’d go by myself, but if Gaara finds out I’m on my own…”

Shikamaru didn’t need asking twice. With his straw poking out the corner of his mouth he hopped to his feet, towering over her, and threw his coat on with much more ease than she had. “’Course,” he smiled, and tucked in his barstool. “I’ll probably be back in a minute, Choj, don’t worry.”

“You will?”

He looked down at Temari, who he couldn’t help noticing looked a little taken aback, and immediately retracted his statement as he fell deep into those eyes once more. “Actually…” he began. They were completely natural now in this light; that perfect blue-green hue he’d grown to know. “I’ll let you know. The old man might want me back.”

Choji chucked and threw his tea-towel at his friends head, only to get it thrown straight back. “Yeah, right. Be careful, you two.”

They walked out on him chuckling, Shikamaru tagging slightly behind as he raised a finger to Choji in protest, and one final snort emanated from the bar as the door shut behind them.

The rain had eased up again, back to a miserable and endless dribble, but a few stars were managing to peep through the mostly block cloud, and so Temari tried to focus on those. She felt a shiver run across her shoulders as she examined the combination in the sky, wondering if maybe what she was seeing was a familiar constellation. It wasn’t.

“I had a really nice evening,” she told him as they turned the corner onto her never-ending street, slightly saddened by the knowledge it never seemed long enough anymore. “It was fun.”

Shikamaru’s warm smile made it feel like the rain was a hot morning shower. “Don’t thank me, love. It was Chōj who gave you free drinks.”

She barged him with her shoulder and wobbled herself, but he steadied her before she could hit the floor with a full toothy grin, which wasn’t something she often saw. Her cheeks flushed hot as she whispered a soft, “Thank you,” and they only grew warmer as he rolled his eyes. “So,” he began, “what happened to you being able to make it home by yourself? To Kankuro seeing and you being able to take care of yourself?”

Temari took a deep breath and let it out as a massive, solemn sigh. “Nobody’s inside. And besides, Kankuro and I aren’t exactly friendly at the moment.”

He cocked his head to one side and looked up at the pavement ahead. “Not because of me, I hope,” he mumbled.

“Oh, it’s entirely because of you, Shikamaru,” she sighed. “Everything’s about you now.”

“What?” he chuckled. “What does that mean?”

She ignored him, barely even hearing him over her own thoughts. “But it’s a Kankuro problem, not a me problem or a you problem. He can keep being a baby if he wants, I don’t actually give a shit anymore.”

“Tem…”

Her eyes drifted up to his as their feet came to a halt outside her house. “What?” she asked, frowning. “‘Tem’, what?”

“He’s your brother.”

“As is Gaara, and he’s not treating me like a child. I’m older than both of them.”

The petty sibling problems were too much for Shikamaru, so he threw his head back with a despairing laugh and shook his head. “You, woman,” he said, “are an utter nightmare.”

Temari pouted cheekily and took his hands in hers as she leant against the wall outside her house, apparently much to his surprise. She squeezed them once and bit down on her lip. “Nobody’s home,” she muttered. “You can come in if you want.”

“Tem…” He looked down at their hands and ran his thumbs across her knuckles. “It’s late and you’ve had a lot to drink. I wouldn’t feel right us going in and—”

“That’s not what I meant!” she spat out, grumbling. “I mean…it was, but it doesn’t have to be. We can just chat, as if we don’t do enough of that already.”

He let go of her hands, rubbed the back of his neck and took a deep breath, remembering his complaints to Chōji. Now, maybe, he could be spontaneous. “Go on then, love,” he smiled, unable to deny the look in her eyes. “Lead the way.”

And she did, happily, forcing herself not to skip up to her door and unlock it. She couldn’t help turning to see the look on his face as she eased it open. “I warn you, we have lots of stairs.”

“I can manage, woman, I’m not ninety.”

She laughed and stepped inside, for once glad for the fact that Gaara had left the heating on whilst he was out. The warmth hit her instantly, and she kicked off her boots to the side of the little entranceway. Temari watched as Shikamaru pointed awkwardly to his own with a questionable look, and she nodded. She didn’t particularly care about wet footprints on the carpet, but it was clear in her head that she had to keep his presence on the down-low. Even Gaara would likely be unhappy with this development, after all.

She passed the door to the room on the right that belonged to Kankuro with great pace—fighting the want to kick the damn thing down—and started to climb the stairs up to the living room, and hung her coat over the back of one of the chairs at the table. “I know it’s weirdly laid out,” she sighed, “but it’s home.”

Shikamaru, now at the top of the stairs, leant against the threshold. “It’s not weird. It’s like Ino’s place.”

The fact that she was mad at him for mentioning Ino only cemented her anger with Kankuro, putting stupid ideas in her head for her jealousy to feed on. Without thinking she opened one of her cupboards and pulled out a half full bottle of red wine that she was certain belonged to Gaara and raised it towards the man before her. “Drink?”

“Temari,” he sighed, “I’ve exclusively drank water tonight. You think I want wine?”

For a moment she felt foolish, and incredibly guilty for offering him something that she knew that she shouldn’t, but it didn’t stop her getting out a shot glass with a smirk and pouring some into it. It looked ridiculous, especially when she poured herself a normally sized glass, but she held the tiny portion to him with raised eyebrows and couldn’t help saying, “Not even a tiny bit.”

Shikamaru shook his head, chuckling at the shot glass and sighed. “Nah, I’m good. You wouldn’t like me when I’ve had a drink.”

“Hadn’t you had one when I followed you into the loo that time?”

“Two,” he grimaced, “but it had almost worn off by then.” He wasn’t lying.

“One won’t hurt.” She knelt down and started rummaging through the same cupboard the wine had been produced from. “I must have some whiskey somewhere.”

“You’re baiting me, Temari.”

“I have whiskey.”

He knew she was being friendly, being flirty, and he knew this wasn’t a ploy to get him into bed or anything. But he couldn’t forget the shame in Choji’s eyes last time he’d ordered whiskey, and the feeling of disgust that came with the false high he eventually felt.

Temari put it down on the kitchen side and shotted the stupid portion of wine. She rinsed the glass out and held it up to him. She looked so beautiful, and so full of genuine acceptance. She’d never judged how skinny he was or mentioned the little white flecks up his arms and across his hands, she just looked him dead in the eyes with pure feeling, and he knew she just wanted him to join her in her high.

Thing was, he already had it by just being here, and it crossed his mind that he hadn’t drunk anything whilst genuinely happy before. It had always been to create happiness, not to accentuate it, and while he knew it was nonsense and it was fake, he wanted it. Now was his chance to join in. He wanted to try it, and there was nobody he’d feel more safe trying it with. 

Slowly, he closed his eyes and nodding, shuffling closer to her. “Just one.”

Temari smiled slightly and poured two. “I hate whiskey,” she mumbled, “but for you I’ll give it a shot.”

“Bad pun.”

“Fuck you.”

He smiled. “You’re a terrible influence.”

“Only every once in a while.” She winked at him as she handed him the glass. “To new beginnings.”

Shikamaru raised his tiny glass and necked it with ease, instantly regretting the feeling of warmth that was building in his throat. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Temari bit down on her lip and followed suit, screwing her nose up.

“Still hate it?”

“Oh, course. It’s the worst.”

With a sigh, he took a step back towards the door. “Maybe I should go.”

“Please don’t.”

“I can’t sit and drink with you.”

“I don’t need you to,” she whined. “I just don’t want you to leave me yet.”

Shikamaru felt his shoulders tense up, and his eyes started to burn. He was tired, but no amount of tired was more overpowering than seeing the red that was starting to creep into her waterline as it grew wet.

“I made you do something horrible today,” she sighed, collapsing onto the nearest chair. “You thought we’d go somewhere good and I put you through it. You didn’t deserve that.”

I did, he thought to himself, taking a step closer to her. “You’re trying to make it up to me?”

She nodded, rubbing her eyes.

“You don’t have to do that, love. Today was helpful, and it was good for me.”

“But I do have to.” She sniffed, looking up at him with big eyes. “You’ve done this thing I can’t explain, Shikamaru, where you’ve made me feel like it’s my job to take care of you.”

He gulped. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. It’s not your fault. I phrased that wrong.” Sniff. “I feel so much fuller when I see you laugh, like I’ve done something good. You’re not my little project anymore or anything like that, you’re just so important. And when you leave, especially with that sad face you’re doing right now, I just feel like shit.”

Placing his hand on her knee, Shikamaru knelt down and tried his best to smile at her. She peered through her hands at him, and he swore he saw a flicker of a grin spreading to her eyes. Did he really have the power to do this? He who was so afraid of talking to people, who had felt like such a moron when he’d apologised the other day, who’d never felt so drawn to anyone or anything in his life…

It was torture, seeing her with what resembled tears in her eyes; this scary, forceful woman with the will of an ox. She’d dragged him back and forth with that strength more than she realised, and jumbled his thoughts on more than a few occasions. But now, on this crazy day, as he looked at her, everything seemed to fall into place. 

He remembered what she’d said soon after they’d met—how she wasn’t going to fix him, but she was going to re-wire him to the best of her ability. It hadn’t made sense to him at the time how someone could do that for a person, but the look in her eyes right now allowed him to feel all the jumbled wires in his brain—his whole body—uncrossing. It made sense now. Yes, he knew that they couldn’t be together—they shouldn’t given how he was, that he still wasn’t okay. He needed to accept himself, he knew that, and although he was one step closer thanks to today, it was the beginning of a long road ahead.

But she’d be there for him, the face she was pulling now told him that without a shadow of a doubt. So he had to do the same. For whatever reason she wanted him to stay, and while he had the chance, he had to. It didn’t feel like choice, more a service, a necessity. A thank you amongst other things.

“Hey,” he whispered, letting his hand gently caress her knee. “One more drink. Then you can decide if I’m actually worth all this bloody hassle, right?”

Temari wiped her eyes and laughed, nodding. “You better be.”

Shikamaru nodded, feeling himself smile the biggest smile he had in a long time. “I better be…”

It was then, without any warning, that her eyes softened once more and her hands flew to his cheeks, still frozen from the bitter cold outside. She crashed her lips into his, and Shikamaru could do nothing but let them, obliging and giving into the power he loved so much.

He stopped momentarily, letting his thoughts fill him as she kissed along his jaw. Don’t use that word, he told himself. You barely know what it means.

“Shikamaru?”

Her voice was weak, and within a second of hearing it he was back in the room, his lips on hers as his hands resting on her hips. He felt her forehead rest on his, and he took a deep breath as they split apart. “I’m not going anywhere,” he mumbled before feeling her arms engulf him in the biggest hug.

He’d never felt so wanted, so needed, and he never wanted this feeling to go away.

#nqjchess #chess #shikamaru #temari #nara #shikatema #fanfic #fanfiction #forbidden love #friendship #choji akimichi #i apologise #for the great delay #I hope you enjoy #and sorry again

[notquitejiraiya]

I think it’s safe to say I lied when I said ‘be right back’, but it’s about time...

#nqjchess #chess #i apologise profusely #oh #and happy new year #may the new year bring new fear #preferably less of them #anyway love you bye

[notquitejiraiya]

notquitejiraiya masterlist

I wrote a lot back in 2015/2016, and while I cringe at it, it came to my attention that some may want to read it. So here is my general master list! (that will hopefully get lost into the abyss because 2015 me really wasn’t a very good writer..)

Series:

Chess - [ShikaTema AU]

Letters to Neji - [LeeTen]

By Ship:

ShikaTema

Storms (2015)

Helpful Advice (2016)

Settling In (2016)

Hokage (2016)

You Look Really Tired

Breath (2016)

Silence (2016)

Entice (2016)

Courage (2016)

Horizon (2016)

Legacy (2016)

Forgotten (2015)

Welcome (2016)

MiraDai

In The Snow (2015)

In The Shadows (2015)

LeeTen

Lost (2016)

Wounded (2016)

Blossom (2016)

Metal (2015)

Best Present (2016)

Unwanted Replacement (2015)

Shut Up (2015)

Uncle Neji (2015)

Mending (2015)

MetaHima

You Need To Go (2016)

Rebellious (2016)

Lion With A Tiger’s Eyes (2015)

Wedding (2015)

Confession (2015)

Bad Idea (2015)

Exposure [1] (2015)

Exposure [2] (2016)

SaiIno

A Question (2015)

Parents (2015)

SasuSaku

Missing (2015)

#I hate myself #I don't even like naruhina much #or sasusaku #but I wrote about them anyway #because I wanted popularity #fortunately 2018/2019 Becks #doesn't give a shit :))) #naruto #naruto shippuden #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #au #nqjchess #nqj ltn #shikatema #leeten #sasusaku #naruhina #miradai #metahima #saiino #fan fiction

[notquitejiraiya]

your fanart is very cute! can you draw in color the hideous flower shirt? how bad can it be? :D

THANK YOU ♥️

Just imagine old fashion grandma-esque curtains...

My lecture is useless so here is a very quick doodle in my notebook of said shirt with my one biro and 3 highlighters...

This but more intense:

But worse. He hates it, especially. Chess!Shikamaru doesn’t like pink.

#actually the last bit of art i do this time #since i felt it was necessary to explain the damn shirt #asks #anonymous #chess #shikamaru #nara #nqjchess #art

[notquitejiraiya]

Another Poll

Right so it’s time to choose again...

1) From Here to There [2]

2) Chess [6] (5 went up last night!)

3) Letters to Neji [18]

Love you all and thanks for supporting my work and pushing me write and write better!

#shikatema #leeten #nqj letters to neji #nqjchess #nqjfhtt #poll #vote

[notquitejiraiya]

Chess [9] - {ShikaTema AU}

A slightly shorter chapter, but I like it. I hope you all enjoy.

Also, I hope that the mass exodus from Tumblr that will undeniably come after the 17th doesn’t include too may of you guys, because I’ll miss putting my stories out there and seeing the happiness they give some of you. If you want me to post them elsewhere so you can read, let me know: I’m very up for putting some of them on AO3.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy Chapter 9 :)

CHAPTER NINE

Temari had been sat on her bed, staring intently at the same paragraph for almost half an hour. She felt like she was a student again, desperately trying to grasp a concept so she could prove to everyone she understood, that she was ready to become what she’d always wanted to become. But the very nature of the feeling that overwhelmed her told her exactly how false it was.

After she’d passed everything, gotten all of the achievements and grants and well done’s, she still felt like she was learning; like she’d not learnt enough. And, honestly, it was terrifying.

Reading over page upon page of her notes wasn’t going to change that fact that she didn’t know how, without a voice on her shoulder or some very strong pills laced with magic, how to cure someone of all their troubles within an instant. It certainly wasn’t going to change the fact that the only patient that had her undivided attention right now was the strangest.

It made her want to call up her old professor and ask him if it was okay, what she told him? As far as she was concerned, she didn’t want to dwell on his horrors, she wanted to resolve their roots. She didn’t want to force feelings out of him that weren’t ready to surface, or lie about her own feelings. She wanted to be a friend, but wasn’t that wrong? If her professor knew—hell, if her boss knew—she’d surely have the most overwhelming shame cloud her entire aura.

Then again, right now the focus was meant to be on the woman who’s file was lying spread out across her duvet, littering every inch of her bed. No more Shikamaru Nara for the day, just helping this lovely little lady.

But suddenly, a knock came from the door, only to be followed quickly by the door opening. Without looking up, she knew only one of her siblings had the nerve to walk in before she welcomed him.

“Kankuro, what is it?” she groaned balling a fist around her hair and pulling in frustration. “I said I’d leave you alone. What more could you possibly want?”

He stepped forward, eyebrows raised. “There’s some guy who rang me up to talk to you.”

Temari couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Wow,” she smirked, “that’s not at all weird is it?”

“I told him to get a grip but he says it’s important.”

“If I knew him and it actually was, he’d have my number. And he’d call me.”

“That’s what I said to him but—” kankuro froze and put the phone up to his ear, frowning. “No, no. Just tell me who—”

“Kankuro, just give it here. I’ll get rid of him.”

Something changed in his eyes. “I, um, I’m not sure it’s a good idea, Tem.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, I—”

“He just told me he’s a patient but he couldn’t get hold of your practice so he—hey!”

Temari hurled herself to her feet and grabbed the phone, pacing back and forth before finally putting it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hey.” The familiar voice echoed down the phone and stirred the warmth in the pit of her stomach.

“Shikamaru, hi,” she mumbled, avoiding the infuriated glare from her little brother. She tried to silently shoo him out with her hands, but he remained. ���What’s the matter? You’re not feeling like you’re going to, um...you know...”

”Oh, no, no,” he assured, his voice calm and serene. “I just felt, ya know, off. And I wanted to talk to you.”

Temari sighed and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Shikamaru, but this is completely unethical. We can’t just—”

“Temari, I can assure you that this is one-hundred percent just a depressed guy really needing his therapist right now, nothing more.”

She could see Kankuro getting more and more angry as he tapped his foot, leaning against the threshold. “There’s a reason we don’t give out our phone numbers.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I know.”

“So that this doesn’t happen.”

“I know but it’s not your number.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re not wrong, but how did you know to call—”

“I didn’t. I just called the mobile number in your brothers shop window and hoped.” A gentle laugh came down the line. “If it’s really that much of a pain though, I can go. It’s just I don’t know if I can wait until Monday.”

“Why?”

“Don’t engage with him!” Kankuro pleaded, storming over and reaching for his phone, but she rolled across the bed, avoiding him. “Temari, for God’s sake...”

“Sorry, Shikamaru, did you answer? My brother is being a twat.”

There was a soft sigh. “No, forget it. It’s fine. I’ll go.”

“Shikamaru,” repeated Temari firmly. “If you needed to call, things clearly aren’t fine.”

“Well, it’s a drag, but I guess I just can’t stop thinking about—”

“Aha!” Kankuro cried as he snatched back his phone and put it to his ear. Desperately Temari scolded him, swearing as she tried to grab it back, but she just wasn’t tall enough or fast enough when he held it out of reach. “Sorry, kid, but my sister isn’t allowed to talk to you. Wait until you’re paying her.”

“Kankuro!”

He hung up and shook his head. “Temari, what is wrong with you? You’ve told me dozens of times you aren’t allowed to personally contact patients.”

“But it was him that—”

“And vice versa, obviously! Temari you’re meant to be the smart one, the righteous one!” He tucked his phone into his back pocket and gave a highly patronising look. “Nobody else has gone to such lengths to contact you. It’s weird, Tem. It’s just plain weird.”

“But it isn’t weird! He’s not okay—he might really need my help and you didn’t even let him explain it to me!”

“Because you’re too attached to him!” he shouted back. “You and I both know how wrong that is, and deep down you know you need to pass him on to someone else!”

“No, Kankuro, I don’t!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” a mediated voice sounded from the hallway. “What the hell is going on in here?”

“Gaara,” Kankuro growled, “tell her she needs to sign that weird kid she’s obsessed with over to someone else.”

“What?”

“Gaara,” said Temari, much calmer than her brother, “tell him he’s got it all wrong. I just want to help him. Tell him he needs to let me just help him!”

Gaara frowned, running a hand through his red hair. “You know, guys, I’m not up for being middle ground.”

“Then just tell her what you think!” Kankuro was infuriated, and equally as infuriating. He reached out and grabbed Gaara’s shoulder, looking down at him slightly. “You’ve been where that guy is now; tell her this isn’t what he needs.”

Temari whimpered and fell back on her bed as she mumbled, “Gaara, please don’t...”

The youngest sibling looked around, trying to survey the room. “So what happened—no shouting!” He quickly snapped his head to look at Kankuro. “Did he follow her home or something?”

The blonde twiddled her thumbs, staring at the phone that poked out of her brothers pocket. “Nothing that weird, no.”

“No, he just rang me up to try and speak to her.”

“What? Why you?”

“Because,” Kankuro added, a deep miserable glare shooting Temari’s way, “he didn’t know her number but he knew I was her brother, so he rang the number we have in the window of the shop. You know, for orders and stuff. Isn’t that weird?”

Gaara bit down on his lip. “Actually, yeah that is weird.”

“But he only rang me because he needed someone!”

“You said he had—”

“I don’t care if he does have family and friends—one of my many jobs for him is to make him feel safe!” Temari stormed over to Kankuro and stared up into his gaze with eyes full of brewing tears. “And you’ve just made him feel small, like he doesn’t matter. For all we know you could’ve just sent him over the edge!”

“I haven’t though, have I? You’re exaggerating!”

Gaara put his hands between them and gently pushed them away from one another. “Just stop, alright? Just calm down and—”

Out of nowhere, Kankuro’s phone began to ring.

“Give me that,” Gaara demanded, offering an outstretched hand to his brother. “Give it to me.”

“But it’s my—”

“I don’t give a shit if it’s yours, man. You lost the right to answer your phone the minute you started yelling because someone needed Temari’s help.”

“But it’s weird, and she shouldn’t—”

“Besides the point, Kankuro.” Gaara wiggled his fingers, strengthening his request. “If someone needs help, you help them. If nobody else can today, Temari will.”

Temari smiled slightly, and watched as Kankuro—miserably and horribly slowly—put his phone in Gaara’s palm. “Thanks, Gaara,” she whispered, wiping her eyes slightly in case any tears had escaped. “Now can I—”

“No, I’m talking to him.” Gaara winced slightly before quickly tapping and putting the phone to his ear. “Hello? Is this—ah okay...”

Temari could feel her palms sweating, and her face flushing with embarrassment; almost as red and Kankuro was with rage. Still, despite his anger, she couldn’t help but put her foot it in, as he always did with her. “Your girlfriend is waiting for you downstairs, dumbass,” she spat. “Go see her for crying out loud. This isn’t important!”

“Oh yeah right.” He laughed a vile laugh and raised his eyebrows at her. “As if I’m leaving you here with him. He will one hundred percent bail and let you talk to—”

“One second man, I can’t hear you,” Gaara interrupted, raising his voice as he spoke down the phone, glaring at his older brother. “Let me go somewhere where my brother isn’t yelling. One second.”

~~~

When Gaara finally re-emerged from the hall after what felt like an age, Kankuro still hadn’t calmed down; he was visibly shaking as he glared across the room. However, Temari had managed to settle herself down slightly, and forced herself to restart reading what was meant to be occupying her Tuesday evening. But, with her brother seething across the room, she had hardly got much done.

Still, when the door creaked open and in wandered the youngest sibling with a piece of paper in one hand and Kankuro’s phone in the other, he let out a huge sigh. “Right, Kankuro. Here.”

He threw back the phone, and the older brother fumbled to catch it, shaking his head. “What on earth took that long?”

“Just go see your girlfriend, Kankuro. I think you’ve really pissed her off; she’s called a cab.”

“Wait, what?”

Gaara rolled his eyes. “Just go talk her out of it, yeah?”

Almost instantly, the middle child was gone.

“So,” Temari mumbled, nervously shutting the file before her, “is he okay?”

“Frankly, Tem,” he sighed, “I have no idea. But I understand him.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “I knew you would.”

“So I got his number from him so you can call him back, because he does need you. He does need help.”

“Gaara, thank you, I—”

“Don’t mention it.” He smiled, handed her the paper and gave her a tight hug. “Just be careful, yeah?”

Nodding profusely, she hugged him back. “Thank you.”

As her brother left the room, she flew over to her bag and began rooting around for her phone. Why was it he was the calmest sibling? Why did he feel older than her, even though she could remember the day he was born, and the shift that came with it? The power he had to silence Kankuro and herself never failed to amaze Temari, and she had to wonder if it was because of his past suffering that he was so calm, so good at being the mediator of so many situations. Then again, it didn’t matter—he was a great little brother, and she was so proud of him.

Finally fishing her phone out of her bag, she wasted no time punching in the number on the slip Gaara had handed her. Still, it didn’t make pressing the call button any easier; it still felt wrong, no matter how desperate she was to talk to him—no, desperate to help him. That’s why she was calling, she had to remember. She was calling to help him.

With her eyes tightly shut she quickly pressed the button and put her phone close to her ear, listening intently to the droning ring over and over again…

“Hello?”

The sound of his voice cutting it off made her chest fill with warmth. “Shikamaru, it’s me.”

“Oh, um—”

“Temari, I mean.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I know your voice. It’s just…well, isn’t this totally not right?”

She was so glad that this conversation wasn’t in person, or else she knew how hard it would be to hide the blush spreading across her whole face. “By principle, no, it isn’t right,” she winced, biting down on her lip. “Then again, you need my help. And my brother noted down your number and told me to call back, so…”

His laugh, slightly distorted, came through and echoed in her head. “It’s safe to say he’s nicer than your other one.”

“Kankuro means well,” she insisted. “He just doesn’t understand; he’s like my dad was.”

“Oh? Are there some deep rooted daddy-issues in the back of your—”

“I’m your therapist, not the other way around. Don’t push your luck.” She sighed. “All I meant is Gaara’s been where you are—not to the same extent, but…well, he understands.”

A more wholesome, softer laugh followed. “Right, okay,” he mumbled. “I appreciate it.”

It was a shame, she noted, that her brother and Shikamaru could never be friends due to her existence. She could tell that they would get along, and it almost made her want to break even more rules; but she couldn’t do that. This, this one phone call, was the most sinful thing she could be doing right now.

“Look, I know you’re going to say no, but…” He coughed uncomfortably, audibly sighing afterwards. “Well, it’s a pain talking on the phone. It costs a fortune and, well, I can’t hear you very well, so, er…”

Maybe the phone call wasn’t the most sinful thing she could do. Maybe she could raise it by asking just one question.

“Shikamaru?”

“Hmm?”

“Where is it you want to meet?”

#shikatema #shikatema au #nqjchess #chess #shikamaru #nara #temari #sabaku no temari #no sabaku #fanfic #kankuro #gaara #of the sand #fanfiction #fan #fic #fiction #au #alternative universe #naruto #shippuden #love #self love #therapy #psychiatry #angst #forbidden love #friendship #help

[notquitejiraiya]

Chess [8] - {ShikaTema AU}

Welcome back to the angsty thing called Chess when only like half the time is anyone actually playing Chess.

A couple of people told me that they don’t like it, but so many more have drowned out their nastiness, so I’m going to quickly jump in and say thank you, guys.

I know the last chapter was a bit heavy, but this one isn’t in that vein, don’t worry.

Much love, and I hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Why would anybody need seven, so bloody specific, bunches of flowers?” Shikamaru groaned. With his body weight hard against a pillar, he gazed down at the written note in his hands. “‘Four white roses, four purple chrysanthemums, two irises and two sprigs of’…” He snorted. “Two sprigs of ‘the little tiny white ones that you always put in, please’. Why?”

Ino Yamanaka shook her head, smiling as she tied a ribbon around the stems of yet another bouquet. “Shikamaru, it’s a wedding order. You seriously don’t understand, do you?”

He shook his head. “Obviously not.”

“Just hold this.”

She thrust her newly finished bunch of flowers into his arms and he sighed, his eyes following her as she strode across the room. “You’re going to make them. I’m not doing it.”

“Christ, for someone who works in a florist, you don’t have much enthusiasm for flowers, do you?”

The young man let out a huge sigh and threw his head back. “And you definitely work here because of your adoration for floral arrangements, yeah?”

Her head turned quickly, and her long ponytail whipped round. “Shut up. There’s nobody on the shop floor. Go downstairs.”

“Fine.” He went to put down the flowers in his hand, when he caught the frustrated glare she shot his way. “Now what, Ino?”

“I told you to hold them because I want you to take them downstairs!”

Shikamaru felt his shoulders tighten as his eyes fell shut. “Then just give that instruction…man, you’re such a pain.”

“Oh, yeah,” she snapped back. “Such a pain. I’m a total ‘drag’, right? You’re the one who was late this morning, Shikamaru.”

“I was late because I had an appointment.”

“You had an appointment yesterday, don’t lie to me.”

He started to shuffle towards the stairs that lead down to the shop floor, weaving through boxes of weird porous foam he didn’t care for and decorative ribbon. “Okay, Ino,” he replied, careless and tired as his feet touched the first step. “I’m going down. Shout me if you need me.”

“I won’t!” she called back. “Oh, and Shikamaru?”

He didn’t answer, just kept walking. It doesn’t matter, he thought, she’ll keep talking anyway.

Of course he was right. “My dad will be here in like half an hour, and by then the bakery will be shut and—”

“And you forgot to get him his lemon tart again…”

Every Tuesday, Inoichi Yamanaka would pry himself away from work early to come and see Ino at the flower shop, and wait to give her a lift home. It was the only day he’d ever done it, but it had been the case as long as Shikamaru could remember. When Ino was little, he’d pick her up from school and they’d go wait until her mother closed up the shop, and she was always leave a little bag behind the counter from the bakery up the road. Inside it would always be a lemon tart.

Shikamaru had heard the story enough times that it was cemented somewhere in his mind that the most important part of a Tuesday afternoon shift was to run to The Bluebird Bakery if Ino hadn’t already. He knew how much it meant to her, as much of a pain as it was. So before she even shouted back a plea, he found himself habitually grabbing his hoodie and throwing it over his shoulders.

“See you in a bit.”

As he flung open the door, the cold air hit him like a six-foot fan had thrust air into his face, and he felt every hair on his head fly from their place in his ponytail. Eager to keep it in place, he threw his hood up and his hands in his pockets, slowly jogging a few shops down toward the bakery. He barged into the door with his shoulder and pushed his way in. This time of day they were getting ready to close, and the room was bare except for one young man, leaning on the counter by the till; one Shikamaru recognised.

It was him, Temari’s brother.

“Come on, Suki,” the man chuckled, smiling at the young woman across the counter. “They’d love to meet you. Besides, they won’t even be in long, and my brother doesn’t get home until late tonight.”

“But your sister does!” The girl blushed. “Kankuro, I don’t know. We’ve barely been seeing each other a month.”

Shikamaru gulped and leant against the wall.

“She’s far too into her work at the moment to care if there’s one more body in the house.” He stood up straight and ran a hand through his hair. “But if you don’t want to I get—”

“No, I do want to!” She reached out and grabbed his hands. “Once we’ve closed up I’ll come to the shop. Wait for me, okay? Just as long as you promise she won’t care.”

Kankuro shook his head, grinning. “Trust me, she’s got more important things on her…”

Shikamaru didn’t notice the young man trail off, nor did he notice his head turn to look at him. All that was on the younger man’s mind was whether the one remaining lemon tart behind the counter could magically appear in the flower shop without him having to interrupt their conversation.

“Hey.”

A jolt went through Shikamaru’s shoulders, and his head slowly turned to see both the man and woman staring at him.

“Hey you’re him, aren’t you? The guy from the pub.” Kankuro shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’re my sister’s new obsession.”

“I don’t know, man,” wheezed Shikamaru, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“You know each other?” the lady, Suki, piped up chirpily before turning her attention—and massive smile—toward Shikamaru. “Small world. You want a lemon tart again, Shikamaru?”

He nodded, smiling back slightly. “Please.”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a tart, kind of guy,” Kankuro chuckled.

“Well, it isn’t actually for—”

“Sorry, but what’s the protocol here, man?”

Shikamaru faltered and shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie once again, only just realising the highly feminine pattern of his uniform was probably contributing to the grin on this intimidating guy’s face. He fumbled for his keys, just to nervously fiddle with something; he could feel the tingling on the back of his scalp set in as his anxiousness slowly creeped up on him.

“I, uh,” he muttered, trying—and failing—to laugh. “I don’t know if there is one.”

“Man, look. I know you’ve been through this tonnes of times. All I wanna know is this: am I allowed to be talking to you?”

Lifelessly, and desperate to retain the small level of cool he had, Shikamaru shrugged. “Ask Temari. I don’t know. I assume not.”

A smile grew, mischievous and eager, across Kankuro’s face. “I’m going to assume I am.”

“I’m sorry, guys; one second,” Suki interrupted, softly and almost afraid. “That’ll be one-twenty, Shikamaru, please.”

He didn’t waste any time pacing over, grabbing the little paper bag and throwing coins down on the counter. With a smile he thanked her and quickly scurried back toward the door. “Well, uh…nice to meet you, man.”

“Yeah,” replied the other man, his voice low and careless. “I’ll tell Tem you said hi, yeah?”

Shikamaru turned slightly, nodding, and raised his hand. “See you around.”

Kankuro didn’t reply, but Shikamaru could feel the resentment radiating from him. Or at least he thought, for a second, that he could. Frankly, this wasn’t his strong suit—the whole two minute long affair had made his stomach churn, and the walk back to the shop couldn’t be over fast enough. He didn’t care about the wind in his hair this time round, he just wanted his feet to carry him away from that place.

Before this moment, he’d never understood what Choji would say when he complained about girlfriend’s siblings, and how he felt like they could snap him in half. He’d always laughed and thought it sounded cliché or like an overreaction, but now he got it. One look from Temari’s brother made his heart race—and he wasn’t even anything like with her. But he couldn’t deny that his mind had been shouting constant gibberish, with only one objective: not to embarrass himself, to make him respect him.

Every day Shikamaru would greet and talk to dozens upon dozens of people, and he didn’t care if the smile he served them with looked false or whether he looked like an impossibly happy, fantasyland man. There were very few people he wanted to respect him besides his parents—even less he wanted to impress—so why, when he met his therapist’s brother, a stranger he’d seen and heard speak many times before, did he feel that wash over him. Why did he feel his emotions bubbling in the same way they did when Mrs Yamanaka gave him that pitiful look for having to work shifts around his appointments? Why did he care what a stranger, who he never should have met, thought of him?

He didn’t know, and as he flung open the door to the florists, he accepted that he wouldn’t. All he knew was that he needed a smoke, and he needed one badly.

“Tart’s down here, Ino!” he shouted up. “I’m going out for a cigarette!”

There was violent shuffling from up above. “Wait, what?”

“I’ll come back in if we get a customer!”

“No, wait! What happened?”

“Nothing happened!” He sighed. “I just need a smoke, okay?”

The silence that followed, at least for the second long duration he waited for an answer, was all he needed to hear to go ahead and step outside.

It didn’t matter to him that the cold was numbing his fingers; what mattered was the wind halting his lighting of his cigarette. He shrouded it, desperate to set it alight, and leant against the window of the shop as he took his first drag, and felt the warmth sear through his body. Nothing felt like this—like the first cigarette in hours on a freezing cold day. Nothing warmed him up, from the inside out, and made him feel whole again, like the smell of the smoke cloud that lightly blanketed him. Obviously, in this precise moment, the smell blew away in seconds, but when he closed his eyes, he could almost forget the air pummelling his face, and the cold numbing his senses. For one moment, he could relax—just him and the elements, desperately trying to get his attention and failing miserably.

All he did was stand there, slowly edging his way down to the end of the cigarette. If only the week would go as fast as one of these does, he thought.

Another week before his shoulders lightened, just that little bit more in her company, was too long for him. It almost pissed him off to admit it, but he was beginning to crave her company in almost equal measure to those little sticks of tobacco, and seeing her brother certainly hadn’t helped that feeling.

~~~

She heard the door slam shut followed by some faint giggling, and immediately what was happening. But, instead of her usual teasing shout, Temari held her tongue, and took a sip of her tea as she kept reading the sheet of paper in front of her. Only when she could hear footsteps a few metres behind her did she finally tear her eyes away.

“Hi,” she mumbled, turning to face the young man as he threw his shoes off into the corner. “Who’s downstairs then?”

Kankuro smirked and hung up his jacket on the back of a chair. “Suki.”

“Ew, stop smirking!” gagged Temari, immediately turning around and grabbing her tea. “Look, I don’t care what you do just don’t make me hear about it, yeah?”

“Why do you always assume I’ve brought girls back to shag them?”

“Because of the amount of times I’ve walked in on a Friday night and you’ve been on the sofa, half-naked on top of one of them!”

“It’s Tuesday.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Mixing it up. Exciting.”

“Don’t make me sound like some kind of dick.”

“I’m not,” she laughed. “You just aren’t very good at…privacy.” She shook her head, taking a sip of her tea. “Sorry. I can leave if she doesn’t want to meet me. I’ve got a load of stuff to get on with, anyway.”

He nodded profusely. “If you wouldn’t mind, Tem, that’d be ace.”

She downed the last of her drink and gathered up the pages she’d taken from the file that was strewn across the kitchen table. “I’ve got a week to try and suss out exactly how to precede with this one guy…”

“Oh,” Kankuro chuckled. “I saw him today by the way.”

Temari’s head shot up. “Who?”

“You know who—him. Shika-whatever.”

“Maru—Shikamaru,” she corrected, absentmindedly. “What the heck do you mean you saw him today?”

His arms flailed cartoonish way as he shrugged. “I mean, I saw him.”

“Okay, now you’re being a dick. What do you—”

“Tem, chill out. He came into the bakery while I was in there with Suki.” He stepped towards the door and put a thumbs up, seemingly so the girl knew it was okay to come up. “It’s fine—barely spoke to him.”

“You didn’t tell him who you were, did you?”

“Didn’t need to. He’s a wimp though, Tem. Proper wuss, isn’t he?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Kankuro…”

“Seriously, though: he’s a mumbler, and he got a lemon tart.”

“Oh yes.” Temari gave an infamous eye roll. “Because that says so much about his character.”

“Actually,” sounded a soft voice from the doorway, “he buys it for his girlfriend’s dad.”

Temari’s head cocked to one side, and she felt her stomach flip. “He told me he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

Suki blushed and bit down on her lip. “Sorry, I guess it is just an assumption. But ever since I’ve worked at Bluebird he comes in almost every Tuesday and gets one for the blonde girl from the flower shop to give to her dad.”

“I was wondering about the shirt…”

“Kankuro,” Temari warned, “you shouldn’t have even fucking spoken to him!” She could feel her blood boiling, and her hands were sweating as she tried to compile all her stuff.

“I’m Suki, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

The blonde snapped round to look into the girl’s smiley eyes, forcing a warm smile. “Oh, yeah, um…I’ll get out of your way.” She threw her folder and papers into her arms and turned on her heel quickly. “It was nice to meet you, too.”

“Oh, Tem?”

Agitated she stopped, refusing to turn.

“So I’m not to talk to Shiki-thingy again if I see him?”

“Shikamaru!” she huffed. “And no. He’s my patient.”

“Okay, but…” There was a moment of silence. “I know what you think of him, but…Don’t even think about it. He seems like pretty weak guy, Tem. It’s not worth it…”

She couldn’t help herself—everything had built up slowly, to the point where Temari threw everything she held to the floor and stormed back towards him, pulling him away toward the corner of the room. Quickly she shot Suki a regretful smile and grabbed him by the collar. Her eyes flared up, cheeks growing red, and she could see in Kankuro’s eyes that he was ready to laugh at her, but she was moments away from punching him.

“Kankuro, I swear,” Temari warned, in a low and threatening tone, “that if you speak ill of that guy one more time, I’ll freaking punch you.”

He smiled. “Chill out, Tem, I just—”

“No. The guy has survived three suicide attempts and spends every day of his life feeling like he’s got nobody on his side, and yet I’m sure he still smiled at you, didn’t he?” she added, level and calm. Her eyes set on him sharply, and immediately she saw his brow soften. “Didn’t he?”

Kankuro nodded slowly, bewildered.

She loosened her grip and backed away, shaking her head. “So don’t you dare say he’s weak. You know what it’s like, Kankuro. You’ve seen. Be bloody respectful.”

Kankuro didn’t have a chance to speak before she hurried upstairs, hauling her belongings and slamming her door. She felt like she’d embarrassed herself, but she recognised it was necessary—she couldn’t hear him talk like that anymore, whether he meant it or not. He didn’t mean any harm, but nobody else knew that, and his inconsiderate words weren’t something everyone could stomach.

She could only hope he hadn’t put Shikamaru through his usual snide shit.

~~~

“Shikamaru Nara, get your butt in here now!”

“Mum, leave it out, would you?” called back the young man, halfheartedly. “I’m not a kid.”

As he sat outside on his doorstep, staring up at the stars, he puffed away on his fourth cigarette of the hour. But now, as the night sky was black, speckled only with a few dots of glitter, the warmth of his chest was doing nothing for his heart.

This was becoming a problem, he could tell; how much he was relying on this woman. It had only been—what?—thirty-something hours since he’d taken the plunge and told her about it, and a week remained until the worst part: the session that followed. The telling unearthed the problem, but the talking just pulled at the roots with no real force, like tweezers that almost pull out every hair, but can’t. So, instead, they leave it more painful and infuriating than ever before, and it’s okay because they tried. Maybe someone else can pull it, and fully dig out the roots that are so twisted, rooted so deep that nobody has ever had the chance to try; not even him.

“Hey, kid, are you okay?”

Shikamaru slowly looked up, suddenly whipped from his thoughts. Only when his head moved did he feel the pools welling in his eyelids, and he blinked them away before the man could see him. “I’m fine, Dad.”

Shikaku made his way down the steps and fell down beside his son, nudging him gently with his elbow. “It doesn’t seem like it’s working.”

“What?”

“Don’t play stupid,” sighed the older man. “You know what. The therapy.”

With a shake of his head, Shikamaru tapped his ash into the soil of one of his mother’s favourite flowerpots absentmindedly—something he’d later regret massively. “I’m not sure, honestly.” His head turned slightly to face his father, but he couldn’t lift his eyes all the way. “So far I definitely feel…”

“Happier?”

The hope in his voice was almost too much for Shikamaru to bear, and when he shook his head, he could see out of the corner of his eye a subtle droop in his posture.

“I was going to say I feel hopeful, this time.”

Shikaku grunted. “Your mother said she tried to find a man but couldn’t.”

“I don’t care. My therapist, she’s…” Shikamaru rubbed his eyes, taking a long drag as he thought of the right word. “She’s understanding,” he settled on.

“I should hope so. We pay her enough; that’s her basic job.”

“No, you don’t get it, old man,” groaned the son, once again dropping ash into the flowerpot. “She understands how to get to me—how to make me actually engage with her.”

Chuckling, Shikaku shook his head. “And what weird sacrifice did she have to do to pull that one off?”

“Har, har,” Shikamaru sighed. “We just play chess—if I lose she gets to choose what I talk about.”

“But you’ve not lost since—”

“Since a couple of weeks ago when she thrashed me in just a few of minutes.”

Instantly, the older man straightened up, grinning. “She beat you?”

Shikamaru nodded, a gentle grin stretching across his fave—a mirror image of his father. “Yep.”

“She beat you?”

“Only the once, but yeah,” he chuckled in reply. “And I talked to her about a lot of shit.”

“What about the…the, um…”

While he was undeniably uncomfortable answering, we wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable in that precise moment as Shikaku, so he forced the words out. “Yeah I told her about them. All three.” He took a deep breath before finally turning to look at his father. “She said it was okay, and that we didn’t need to dwell on it, just fix it. She said she can fix me.”

“And you believe her?”

“Wow, Dad. Your optimism is so great.”

“No, really. Do you?”

The look in Shikaku’s eyes was wholesome—full of softness and care—and it made Shikamaru feel stupid for ever thinking that man wanted anything more than for his son to be happy.

With a gentle smile, Shikamaru nodded, taking a short drag. “She’s wonderful, and she actually cares.”

“Not like—”

“No,” he lied, “not like that. She’s my therapist, old man. Even if I did care about her like that or by some chance she did me, I’m better than that. She’s certainly better than that.”

“So why do you look so hurt?”

Shikamaru dropped his head again. “Dad, you were told you should send me to some rehabilitation, helping place, right?”

He hummed in response.

“Why didn’t you?”

There was a silence.

“It was selfish at first; we didn’t want to admit you needed the help you do need. But in the end it cans down to one thing—you need your friends. You need your normal life, or else you’re never going to get out of your own head, Shikamaru.” Shikaku budged him with his elbow playfully. “You’re too much like me. You’re in you’re head, constantly, and only the people around you can ground you.”

“She grounds me,” he interrupted. “I walk into that room with her and I feel safe from myself. I feel free from whatever I think at any given moment, because she’ll bat it aside as though it’s false.”

“It is false, Shikamaru.”

“But when my head gets bad, all I want is...” he trailed off, shaking his head and taking another drag, too red with embarrassment to make another sound.

Shikaku pointed at the dying cigarette in his son’s hand and hopped to his feet. “You really should stop it. It’s a bad habit.”

“No matter how much you say it, old man, I’m never gonna—”

“I know.” He smiled, kicking him gently with his foot. “Now, call her.”

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