Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

On The Cusp	By : Okami-Rayne Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male > Shikamaru/Neji Views: 2205 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: NARUTO and its respective characters were created and are owned by Masashi Kishimoto. No copyright infringement intended. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
ON THE CUSP

by Okami Rayne

Chapter Six

Birthday's had a rule of thumb when it came to surprises.

The rule was simple; expect the unexpected.

For Shikamaru, unpredicted company and unwanted topics of conversation were just two examples on a long list belonging to a long night. In fact, he'd resigned himself to an even simpler logic.

Expect and accept the unexpected.

He could do this and accept it because these unexpected things were out of his control. However, he sure as hell didn't expect to be caught unawares by something he'd always kept under the strictest supervision.

His mind.

And the unexpected slip happened so fast that he missed it.

He was in the middle of listening to Kiba and Naruto regale Temari and Ino with the exaggerated tale of their mission in Hanegakure when the shift took hold of him.

Normally, he'd always catch it in time.

Normally, he'd sense a warning 'ping' on his mental radar and immediately bring up psychological borders before the fear could break through into a physical response. Normally, the fear would bounce off the barricades in his mind and deflect back into the shadows of his subconscious.

He'd catch it in time, every time.

But not this time.

It struck him like a rush of cold sweat on the inside. And then his heartbeat hit his throat so hard he froze altogether.

What the hell?

Shikamaru blinked hard, trying to focus on what Kiba was saying. He stared at the dog-nin's mouth to try to follow the words but another icy flash had him shifting position, straightening up and dropping one hand to his thigh, gripping hard.

His palms were sweating.

This is crazy…calm down…

Shikamaru swallowed hard.

"So then Shikamaru put together this crazy-ass game plan," Kiba was explaining to the girls, engrossed in fleshing out the intensity of the mission. "Designed to rearrange my face."

"Yeah, Kiba had about five nosebleeds, the Wuss," Naruto added, stuffing his face with dangos.

"Oh shut up, I had to drill through rock. All you had to do was run around like a birdbrain with your little orange buddies – and I'm not talkin' about your clones."

"I kicked more ass than you did."

"Bull. Shikamaru, back me up!" Kiba implored, barely looking over, assuming he had the shadow-nin's full attention.

"Yeah…" Shikamaru answered mindlessly, trying to get his brain to slip into the appropriate gears to control his body.

Calm down. Breathe.

"So the whole thing was about mind-transference," Ino cut in, her gaze fixed on Sakura and Hibari, blue eyes cooler than a she-wolf's as she watched the redhead tease playful threats out of her pink-haired rival.

"Hell yeah, the whole thing," Naruto agreed around a mouthful. "But they branded kids and stuff, it was messed up."

As conversation continued, Shikamaru blinked distractedly from the dialogue, painfully aware that his mouth felt drier than a sand pit, his tongue a useless, thick wad of cotton. His lips felt dry enough to crack if he moved them.

He thought to reach for water only to find that he already had.

His fingers were curled so hard around the glass that the tendons in his hand were drawn taut and white, fingertips bleached by his grip.

His eyes widened a fraction, alarm cutting off his breath.

His rigid arm and hand looked like they belonged to a rigor mortis corpse.

Fuck…how?

Condensation beaded from the glass and dripped colder than his sweat over ashen fingers. With effort, Shikamaru flexed his hand. The twitch broke the tension in his arm, setting off a tremble that quickly rippled into a fresh flood of adrenaline, heightening the roar of his pulse.

He sucked in a tight breath.

Across from him, Temari leaned her cheek into her hand, stroking her earlobe between thumb and forefinger with a subtle glance in his direction, teal eyes narrowed questioningly.

Oblivious, Shikamaru took a strong gulp of water, the muscles of his throat working hard as he sucked another breath through his nose. The sharp sound was drowned out by Naruto's voice husking out a laugh about something that bypassed Shikamaru completely. He set the glass down, tightening his fingers around it again.

This is so stupid…I'm not under attack…I'm not in danger…breathe…

The logic wouldn't penetrate the building pressure in his head.

Temari watched him, turning a little more in her seat, careful not to draw attention from the others.

"Shikamaru," she dropped her tone to mirror her mild look of concern.

"Relax," he rasped, his voice a hoarse croak as he pushed to his feet, slipping as casually as he could manage around the table.

Get out. Move.

The hum of conversation and gentle stream of music seemed to dim into a distance buzz in the back of his head, drowned out by the roar of his pulse, each heartbeat amplified by the rapid steps he took towards the restroom.

This is fucking stupid…I know what this is…

His logic immediately identified the cause.

Anxiety.

Usually the cure was simple, he'd neutralise the problem by switching his focus onto something else.

Stupid simple.

Then why the HELL isn't it working?

He threw open the door to the men's room and moved straight to the sink, fingers moving fast to slam on the cold water. He ducked his head low, letting the spray wash over his lips before he cupped the icy flow in his palm, splashing his nape and rubbing hard.

Breathe. Relax. Focus. Calm down.

He knew how to do this. Given the amount of practice he'd had, he should have perfected it by now. He looked down at the water swirling down the plug hole and splashed his brow, letting the cool droplets trace the sharp angles of his face as he tipped his head back.

A shaky laugh caught in his throat at the absurdity of it.

So stupid…

Gripping the edges of the sink, he hung his head with a rattled sigh, drawing in deep breaths and holding them for a beat of five, trying to get his heart rate under control.

Who'd have thought I'd be the one needing to breathe…after everything I told you to do…

He shook his head at the thought, trying hard to veer away from the memory of pale, opalescent eyes pinched in panic and pain. He blinked slowly and stared at his reflection instead.

Shit. I need to sleep…

The dark smudges under his eyes were even more pronounced in the muted light, the lean shadows under his cheeks even darker. He leaned in until he felt his breath misting the glass, fanning out warm against the mirror.

Breathe…slow…

Slowly, his body began to respond, the adrenaline and palpitations easing into a tight throb at the base of his throat. A few breaths later, the nervous, nauseating flutter in his sternum settled back to a steady beat.

He pressed his brow to the mirror with a sigh. "Shit…"

As his body settled, his mind raced.

It must have been the sleep deprivation that had finally done it. Exhaustion always led to hazy breaks in his mental border-control. Thoughts slipped through unwanted and the reaction fired off before he could arrest the cause then and there.

That's got to be it…but what the hell triggered it?

As far as his conscious mind was concerned, he'd been focused on Naruto and Kiba, he hadn't been aware of his thoughts drifting. Granted, Temari bringing up the Chūnin exams and the Daimyos hadn't helped, but he should have had a grip on those reactions by now. Since his stupid drunken escapade, he'd sharpened his mind to the likeness of a knife when it came to cutting off unwanted thoughts and memories.

Clearly, tiredness had dulled the blade.

I'm just sleep-deprived…that's all this is…it doesn't mean anything…

It's not like the past was happening now.

Don't go there. Be here.

Nodding once to confirm he was comfortable with this conclusion, he drew his face back from the mirror and stared himself in the face. The deep, dark sienna of his eyes stared back at him, the pupils shrinking and swelling in the dim light. Shadows seeming to swirl around the irises.

He blinked slowly, hooding his gaze.

And then he spoke to part of himself he hadn't addressed in two years.

You belong in the shadows. Stay there.

She wasn't crying, but Neji could sense the tears.

They were just beneath the surface of her opal eyes, a damp sheen like water behind glass.

"Look up," Neji instructed gently.

Hanabi raised her chin, sniffing against the sting in her nose. "I don't need your pity."

Neji ignored the petulant snap, his focus on the damage along his younger cousin's jaw and neck. Thankfully, she'd avoided a third-degree burn. The skin hadn't blackened or split, but blisters had formed along the underside of her jaw.

If Hinata didn't have such excellent chakra control, this could have been worse.

Neji twisted the cap on a salve pot, the scent of aloe hitting the cool air. Hanabi squirmed at the edge of the porch, digging her toes into the dust that had settled around the courtyard.

She watched him warily as he adjusted his crouch. "She forgave you for what you did to her when you were a Genin."

Dropping a knee to keep his balance, Neji set the pot to one side, coating his thumb with the salve. "Your sister has a name."

"Do you expect me to forgive her like she forgave you?" Hanabi demanded, her tone taking on an edge that pricked the Jōnin's conscience like a senbon.

"I don't expect anything," Neji responded neutrally, hooking a finger under her to chin to lift it higher. "Stay still."

He smoothed the aloe along the blisters carefully, ignoring her hiss of discomfort. Keeping his focus, he examined the skin by light of the lanterns set around the courtyard, throwing soupy shadows into a warped and wobbling dance.

Twilight had begun to blacken; matching Hanabi's dark look as she watched him.

"I won't be a Branch pet too," she bit out.

Neji's thumb paused mid-sweep at her throat. Staring at the pale column of her neck, he realised how frighteningly easy it would be to snap it.

"If you have something to say to me, then speak plainly," Neji returned, his deep tones unerringly calm. "You are angry that I have trained with Hinata-sama."

Hanabi grabbed his wrist, her small fingers clutching hard but barely making an impression. "She did this to me. You taught her how to do it."

Neji rolled his wrist, the slight movement sharp enough to break her clutch on him. Hanabi snapped her hand back, gripping the post beside her instead, nails digging into the flaked wood. He imagined she'd rather have imbedded those nails in his skin, scratched out his eyes and hissed her hurt.

"You taught her," Hanabi seethed again.

"Yes," Neji admitted, leaning across to replace the cap on the pot, fingers twisting the lid into place. "And what has Hiashi-sama taught you?"

"So that's it, cousin? You pity her because father trains with me?" Hanabi accused, digging her toes deeper into the dust. "You'll teach her to beat me, because father picked me over her?"

"No."

"Then why?" she hissed between clenched teeth. "If I had been born first would it have made a difference?"

Neji closed his eyes in a rigid snap.

Damn those words and their ability to sink into him like fangs through skin he normally kept tougher than hide. He'd hardened the edges of his mask, but the guard around his heart was taking longer to reconstruct, given who had collapsed his defences weeks ago.

Not now.

Neji drew a breath then slipped his eyes open. "Making a difference is the reason I am doing it."

"You can't change anything!" Hanabi growled, a stinging contempt disguising the tremor in her voice. "How can you, niisan? How can she? The strongest wins!" Hanabi shot to her feet in front of him, dust swirling around her ankles as she balled her fists. "The weakest will be branded worthless! Worthless and unwanted!"

Neji gazed up at her, allowing her this small advantage of height. She panted against the weight of emotion holding watery and wild in her eyes, her anger orchestrating her motions like a puppet.

"You don't care what happens to me! Why should you?"

"That's not true."

"Yes it is! Well go ahead and teach her! I don't need a protector. I'll get stronger on my own!"

"Hanabi…"

"Because I won't be thrown away by father! I won't be disowned!" Tears rolled like tiny diamonds down her cheeks, struck amber in the lantern light. "I won't…I won't…"

Neji gazed up serenely, wrestling her anger into a submissive pause with silence and patience. He waited until the sound of her enraged pants began to hitch in her chest. It was this sound that drew him wordlessly to his feet, a ripple of white robes and shadows.

Hanabi stared up at him, pale orbs shining. "I won't be thrown away…I won't let father leave me behind."

Neji tilted his head, something stronger and older than sadness weighing in the depths of his eyes, deepening his voice into a hoarse rumble in his throat. "You will not be left behind."

"Liar!" She shook her head, scattering teardrops, a grimace betraying her fear. "One of us will be thrown aside and there's nothing you can do! You can't protect me!"

A muscle pulsed in Neji's jaw, his eyes casting over her as if studying a broken reflection of himself. Instantly, he recognised a shard of his past still buried deep and bloody in his chest. One of the many fragments he'd been broken into weeks before.

He knew the look in Hanabi's eyes.

He knew her fear, her frustration and that agonising sense of futility and fate. He knew exactly what it did. How it combined in a fist of emotion that grew fiercer and firmer with every repressed clench. More than this, he knew the kind of fury that could be borne from those dangerous feelings.

That is why I cannot train you…I would turn you into something worse than I ever allowed myself to become…

If he had almost killed Hinata in his rage, the thought of what Hanabi might do to her sister whilst fighting for the right to exist and survive was deeply disturbing.

I understand you better than you know.

"I will protect you," he said quietly.

Hanabi's legs locked to keep from folding, her fists drawing tighter and closer to her sides. "You can't change things…" she repeated on a whisper. "You can't make it better. You can't protect us both."

Neji stared at her shaking fists, a fleeting pain playing across his eyes, lost behind the harder look that replaced it. "I can try."

The cake wasn't the cloud Shikamaru had been expecting.

It was a stag and a rose.

Hinata had crafted the presentation to aesthetic perfection, everything from the deer's antlers to the rose's thorns. The detail was intense, leading Shikamaru to believe she had some kind of a culinary calling in her cards. She'd themed the cake's design on the Nara and Yamanaka affinities. She'd even accounted for Ino's purple obsession by binding the base with a lilac ribbon.

It was almost tragic to cut the damn thing.

But after the candles were blown and the cake sectioned, people dug in with gusto. Shikamaru feigned an appetite, not wanting to insult Hinata's time and effort, which was a hell of a lot more than he'd have put in when it came to exerting his gastronomic skills beyond making tea.

"Women belong in the kitchen, hmn?" Temari teased, nibbling on one of the cake's rose petals.

"That's right," Shikamaru replied, linking into the familiar sexist banter. It was better than the sharp looks Temari had been shooting him since he'd sat his ass back down.

Thankfully, the room had dimmed to a smoky mauve offset by red lamps and flickering candles. It made expressions harder to gauge in the deceptive light and clinging shadows. Music still trickled on in the background, gentle and cordial, mixing easy melodies into the mood.

A flash of blonde drew Shikamaru's attention askance as Ino gulped down her drink, curling her feet up beneath her, having abandoned her evil heels. "Shikamaru…"

"Mn?" The Nara looked over, sweeping his thumb across the corner of his mouth to catch a flake of chocolate.

"What did you wish for?"

"What?"

"Wish for," Ino repeated, dissecting her cake with the edge of her fork in a messy and uncoordinated fashion that was somewhat disturbing for a medic-nin. "When you blew out the candles."

Shikamaru watched her mutilate the cake, arching a brow. "Are you serious?"

Ino set her fork down and looked at him. She wasn't smiling.

Okay…

"You're supposed to make a wish on your birthday," she said severely.

"What, is that in your book too?" Shikamaru jerked his chin toward the zodiac book Chōji had apprehended, reading through it with Tenten.

Ino rolled her eyes and reached for her glass, a drink which had mysteriously appeared in Shikamaru's absence and kept getting refilled by one of the attendants as if Ino had him catering to her on psychic summons.

"Fine, whatever. Don't make a wish," she said petulantly, turning her attention away from him and onto Lee, gulping at her drink again.

Shikamaru arched a brow, looking to Temari as if she'd understand the undercurrents of the mood swing.

Temari smirked, waving a slender hand in casual dismissal. "Oh don't look at me like that. You dig your own graves."

"Yeah, when you're not the one handing out the shovels," Shikamaru returned, scraping his teeth along his fork to catch some of the dark chocolate flakes stuck between the tines.

Temari dropped her eyes to his mouth, her own curling upward at one corner. "You're not the only one who can play dirty," she drew out the last word into a scathing purr.

Shikamaru looked away, shaking his head. "Subtle."

"You too," Temari murmured, her silky tone carrying a knowing edge.

Without looking back at her, Shikamaru set his focus across the room, watching the shadows wobble in the corners. He ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth and caught melted traces of dark chocolate.

He savoured the bitter taste underlying the sugar.

Out the corner of his eye, he caught Temari's hair rippling as she shook her head with a dry, sultry chuckle. The sound drew his focus, but before he could examine the nature of her amusement she was leaning across under the pretence of reaching for another slice of cake.

The sudden movement forced Shikamaru to lean back, but not before her breath brushed his ear. "You're not fooling me."

Shikamaru exhaled a rough chuckle, barely controlling the flash of alarm that threatened his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, half of his body coalescing into the shadows draped over their end of the table.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Temari plucked one of the rice-paper thorns from the rose section of the cake, her eyes on him the entire time.

"Playing the dumb card doesn't suit you."

"You want me to play something else?" he returned coolly, his eyes a degree warmer than his voice.

Temari smirked, a touch of surprise hitting her eyes. "Don't you have to be drunk to play those big boy games, Shikamaru?"

"I never stop playing." He leaned back further in his seat, bracing the heel of his hand at the edge of the table - confirming the solid barrier between them. "But in this case, it's a game over. You've had your payback."

"Have I? You still have to apologise."

His eyes darkened. "I don't have to do anything."

Temari quirked a brow, fixing him with a razor look. "You're not fooling me," she said again.

"Thanks for the concern," he drawled, annoyance biting into his tone. "Now drop it."

Temari treated him to a sly drop of her lashes, her movements subtle and quiet enough to attract no attention. She let her fingers skim over glasses and cups to disguise her closeness to him as no more than searching the table for a misplaced drink.

"It's not concern, Shikamaru."

"Yeah?" Shikamaru murmured, his smoky voice automatically deepening and darkening the longer they held eye contact. "Well then thanks for the warning."

Temari measured the distance between them, like a player checking positions on a board.

Then she drew away slowly, like a cat slinking back, one shoulder at a time.

He knew it wasn't a retreat.

Her voice lulled to a smug purr. "You still owe me a favour. Consider that your warning, Nara."

Letting those words hang in challenge, she flicked her wrist, nails flashing like blood drops. The rice-paper thorn landed by his hand like an assassin's parting gift. She shot him a cunning look and rose to her feet. With the exotic sway of a dancer, she curved around her chair and exited the room in smooth, confident strides.

Shikamaru watched her go and his bistre eyes thinned to flickering slits.

A muscle worked in his jaw.

Calm down…

His fingers twitched at the edge of the table.

Calm down.

They flexed and folded and furled into a fist.

Fuck it.

He crushed the thorn beneath his palm, pushed up from his seat and followed behind her.

"It's going to happen…I can see it…in graphic detail…"

Kakashi regarded the slumped Jōnin next to him with well-concealed amusement, his hitai-ate catching the glow of Asuma's lighter as the Sarutobi attempted to hold the flame with a uncooperative thumb.

"If she has a girl," Asuma announced for the third time, "then people will die…heads…heads will roll…if she has a boy…he's gonna end up like me…and that's…god that's terrible…"

"I was waiting for this delayed reaction," Kakashi replied as he reached across, took the lighter from Asuma and lit his friend's cigarette.

The ashtray was overflowing with dog-ends and a dusting of cinders peppered the counter, which the bartender had given up on cleaning. Asuma was on a chain-smoking roll and his hand-to-ashtray coordination had become somewhat impaired. Kakashi's mask wasn't doing much to filter out the smoke, but thankfully the pall granted a bubble of impenetrable privacy that not even the bartender was willing to venture into.

"I'm not delayed…" was Asuma's delayed response.

"Of course you're not."

"I'm calculated…"

"Of course you are."

"I'm a badass…"

"The 'baddest' there is."

"Ino's seventeen tomorrow."

"Yes she is."

"I'm gonna murder that prick. He pissed his pants."

"Thank you for the repeated update."

"Update…date…she's old enough to date you know."

"I know."

"It's not good…"

Kakashi smirked, marginally impressed with the Sarutobi's ability to speak while simultaneously and interchangeably having something attached to his mouth.

A cigarette or a saké bottle.

Asuma's plan to destroy his liver as well as his lungs was fully in the works. It had taken a good few drinks before the Sarutobi's tongue loosened enough for him to start rambling around the topic he had yet to directly address. He was playing the avoidance game more avidly than he'd accused his student of doing two weeks ago.

You learned from the best, Shikamaru.

Kakashi watched Asuma shake his head at nothing and smiled beneath his mask.

For his part, he'd kept his brain booze-free. He was nursing the same drink he'd ordered two hours ago.

"You thinking I'm joking, Hatake…but…I coulda killed that bastard."

"I know," Kakashi assured. He slipped the lighter into Asuma's flak-jacket and patted the vest pocket. "I'd have helped you bury the body."

Asuma laughed loudly, stabbing his cigarette at Kakashi, raining ash all over the counter. "You're funny when you joke…"

"That's usually the aim."

"Because you're a Smartass…and I'm a Badass…a good team…"

"I'm sure."

"Team Ass…Gai could be Kickass." Asuma laughed, throwing his arms wide as he looked around the bar, eager to recruit. "We just need a Dumbass."

Kakashi shook his head. "Keep drinking, Asuma and you'll demote yourself."

"Smartass has spoken," Asuma nodded solemnly, toasting the air with his cigarette instead of his bottle. And then as quickly as he'd inflated, he slouched forward onto the counter, eyes dimming. "Shikamaru…he's so smart."

Kakashi nodded, amused at the randomness. "Yes, he is."

"I'm gonna kill him too…"

That certainly had Kakashi's mind doing a 'stop' and 'rewind'.

The copy-nin blinked. "What?"

"I'm gonna kill him. Kill him dead."

"Shikamaru?"

"No." Asuma scowled, shaking his head emphatically enough to almost dislodge his cigarette, clamping his lips hard as he growled. "He's why I'm gonna kill him."

"And who might this 'him' be?"

"I have no fucking idea," Asuma admitted to the bottle in front of him, watching it with fierce concentration that suggested he was looking through it at the warped shapes on the other side. "Damn kid didn't tell me. So I'm telling you I'm gonna find out who He is and then I'm gonna kill him…"

Now, Kakashi's mind often worked in an eccentrically brilliant kind of way and he could normally take loose threads and tie them together. But pronouns without placement were dangerous things, given that they had a tendency to attach themselves to faceless people, which often created an ugly knot of complications. And not one for attaching himself to anything, much less people and complications, Kakashi wasn't sure whether to encourage this broken-down train of thought, or follow it further.

He asked me here for my brain, didn't he? I suppose that leaves me playing train driver while he drinks himself under the tracks…

Heaving a sigh, Kakashi considered his glass for a moment, but placed his palm flat across the top, sliding it away. Keeping a level head was imperative in an unstable conversation.

"Someone did something to Shikamaru?" Kakashi took an intelligent guess.

Asuma's scowl darkened, his mouth drawn tight. "I don't know. It's like the last time…I couldn't do anything. Useless. Never knew…because he didn't say a thing…"

"The last time?" Kakashi prodded, turning a little on his stool.

"The last time…" Asuma echoed, his jaw twitching. "That should have stayed the last time…but now there's something else." He placed his hands flat on the counter, thumbs touching before he slid his palms apart. "He pulls away…why do they do that? I can't protect them when they do that. Pull that far away…that means pulling them back…and if I can't...shit…"

Kakashi might have thought of Sasuke in that moment, he might even have let himself consider the part he had or hadn't played in pulling the Uchiha away from the path of vengeance. There had been opportunities; countless times he could have tried harder. Countless times he could have tried to mimic in true copy-nin fashion the kind of attachment Asuma had developed for each of his students.

But more than those countless chances were the countless reminders why he couldn't.

He'd lost his chances years ago.

He blinked his grey eye slowly, the charcoal flecks glinting as he looked up to the dim light of the bar, scanning the rows of aging bottles. "You're still worried about Shikamaru."

Asuma gave a brittle laugh, shaking his head. "That doesn't stop…it still gets me…three...two...two years on…"

"Two years?"

"Two years."

"Something happened when he was fifteen?"

"And it stills gets me…and now it's getting me all over again…get that, huh? It's a mess."

Kakashi reached for his drink again, tracing the rim with his thumb, paying more attention than he appeared to be. "I see…"

And he's worried about becoming a father…there's no Jōnin better suited to it than him…

Asuma tapped his fingers against the lip of his saké bottle, gripping the neck to twirl the end in an idle roll across the counter. "Maybe I'm not right for this…"

"For what exactly?"

Asuma waved his hand around.

Kakashi followed the movement, arching a brow. "That explains everything."

"You know those kids and Kurenai…they're my second chance."

"Yes. You said."

"Lucky. I'm a lucky bastard." Asuma's brows furrowed in a deep, brooding frown. "I keep expecting the other shoe to drop."

Kakashi hummed quietly at the confession, glancing across. He watched Asuma roll the bottle a few more times, cigarette dangling at one corner of his mouth.

"You were a by-the-book kid," the Sarutobi added disjointedly. "Pre-porn books that is."

"I followed the rules, if that's what you mean," Kakashi admitted, brushing his thumb over the sweating glass in his hand, waiting for an elaboration.

"Yeah. A good kid, right?" Asuma rocked the bottle precariously back into position, exhaling smoke in a snort. "God, I was such a stupid kid…"

"You were far from stupid, Asuma," Kakashi returned, mildly reproachful but more amused. "You became an elite guardian."

"And in flash, it all went to shit." Asuma smacked his palm down on the table. To illustrate said 'flash' he swiped his hand across in a jerk that Kakashi avoided by robotically lifting his glass and setting it down again, repeating the motion when Asuma drew his hand back. "There and back…all fucked up…that takes stupidity…"

"We all make mistakes," Kakashi mitigated, his sole eye taking in the emotions playing across Asuma's face. "Those mistakes don't make us stupid. Unless you repeat them. Repeatedly."

"Yeah. Guess my old man's a little too dead to differ." Asuma slouched against the counter, a gruff, strained laugh rumbling out of him in a swathe of smoke. "They say the dead don't talk back. But we never talked…and when we did…" He trailed off for a moment, bronze eyes clouding over with something stronger than inebriation until he suddenly looked tired and drawn. "Hell…he never heard a damn thing anyway. Was that my fault? Or his? Fathers can really screw you up."

Kakashi offered no response to that.

He calmly turned his glass around in his hand.

Family dynamics were not his forte, especially when it came to parental relationships. He slanted his gaze towards the far corner of the bar, feeling a phantom ache in a part of himself that he hadn't given much attention to over the years.

I know better than to do that.

It was a part of him that had become so jaded with acceptance and resignation and lack of attachment that it rarely reacted to anything or anyone. But occasionally the pain came quick and sharp, like the slice of a blade across a vein too rusted to bleed.

Sensing the odd deepness of his silence, Asuma looked over.

Kakashi corrected himself automatically, his eye shaping that little half-moon smile.

Asuma squinted. "Crap. If I can tell that's a lie…I'm getting sober too fast."

"You always sober up fast."

Asuma took a quick swig of saké and tapped the end of the bottle against Kakashi's untouched glass. "Here's to impending tragedy and mass murder."

Kakashi's eye softened a little, his voice seeping into the smoky air with an edge of calm sobriety. "You're going to be a good father, Asuma."

Asuma's jaw tightened, his fingers straying back and forth over the row of bottles lined up in front of him. The lazy motion didn't fool Kakashi. He could sense the sober shift in the Sarutobi's mood as his mind disengaged from its drunken musings, forcing a more lucid expression.

Even so, he looked ready to grab another bottle.

Asuma reached for one, then redirected his hand and took up his cigarette instead, pressing it back between his lips as they curved. "Because I'm such a good role model? Gotta face it. Being a super cool adult just isn't my thing…"

Kakashi said nothing.

Instead, he allowed Asuma to sink into a brooding pool of self-derisive silence, his dark brows drawn low in a look of morbid contemplation.

Kakashi almost felt guilty for finding it amusing.

Asuma was waiting for him to throw in a lifebuoy via humour.

Kakashi let the drowning tension build, somewhat sadistically. And then Asuma surfaced from his depressed head-dunk with a dry smirk, exhaling a long, thin stream from the corner of his curled mouth.

"And this is why I don't do deep conversations…" Asuma chuckled despite himself. "I try to take myself seriously and it's a joke…"

"Asuma."

"Yeah?"

"You're an idiot."

Asuma saluted vaguely and reached for a bottle. "I'll drink to that."

Kakashi caught his wrist – hard.

Time to cut to the chase.

Asuma's brow flicked up, bronze eyes narrowed against the glare bouncing off the metal plate attached to Kakashi's glove. And then Kakashi poised a question that had the Sarutobi's eyes flashing brighter and harder than the steel.

"When the Sandaime died, where were you?"

"What?" Asuma almost choked on the word, a forced half-smile playing across his lips to distract from the look of confusion stealing over his shock. "What the hell kind of question is that?"

"Where were you?" Kakashi asked again, his grip as steady as his voice.

Asuma pulled his wrist back, the heavy metal of his bracelet hitting the counter in a dangerous clang. He turned on Kakashi slowly, his eyes glittering dangerously. Even if the anger hadn't hit his eyes, Kakashi would have sensed it in the aggressive shift of chakra, like a hum beneath the surface of Asuma's normally relaxed and easy aura.

Well, I suppose I should have seen this coming.

Kakashi offered no reaction to the look that would have had any sane man backing off from the Sarutobi. While Kakashi's sanity might have been in question, his instincts seldom were.

Asuma was angry, yes, but he was also addled.

Kakashi might have counted on the latter state to neutralise the former. But mostly, he was counting on their friendship to hold off a fight that would turn very ugly, very fast.

Asuma seemed to be factoring in damage control, sobering up with every measured second. "Where the hell are you going with this?"

"Answer my question and you'll see exactly where it leads."

Asuma looked Kakashi dead in the eye, searching the grey orb for some explanation to the deeply personal attack the question threatened to become if he let his guard down enough to answer it.

"I think I've let you run around in drunken circles long enough," Kakashi explained, setting his elbow on the counter to swirl the contents of his drink in a hypnotic slosh around the glass. "And I know that isn't why you wanted to borrow my brain, is it?"

Asuma frowned, snatching his cigarette from his lips. He began to tap ash into the tray only to crush out the smoke altogether in a sharp jab and twist.

"What does my father's death have to do with anything?" he asked darkly.

"Everything," Kakashi answered quietly, managing to soften his tone without being any less direct. "The rest of the Jōnin were fighting off the Sunagakure ninja when the Sandaime fought Orochimaru. Where were you?"

Asuma glanced down at the ashes in the tray, shaking his head irritably at what he felt was an irrelevant question. "I went after Shikamaru."

Kakashi watched him quietly, waiting for the importance of those words to sink into Asuma's brain as sharply as the point he was trying to make. But Asuma continued to stare numbly at the ashtray, the alcohol having addled his brain's ability to catch on at the normal speed. Deciding to help the other Jōnin along, Kakashi cocked his head, drawing Asuma's gaze.

"You went after Shikamaru."

"Yeah, I just said that."

"And why did you go after him?" the copy-nin prodded.

"Why? What do you mean, why? Because…" Asuma trailed off with a scowl, waving a hand around again.

"Exactly." Kakashi's mask pulled across his cheekbones as he smiled, accentuating the sharp line of his jaw. "Some things just are. You already are what you think you can't be."

One angry and confused crease at a time, the hard 'V' of Asuma's brow smoothed out, softening with his eyes until a weak chuckle broke from his lips. "Right, so in your genius brain, me being a crappy son but an overprotective sensei cancel each other out and somehow add up again to make me a potentially good father?"

"You put Shikamaru's life before the lives of countless citizens and the Hokage. Your own father. That tells me what I already know. So what do you think?"

"I think borrowing your brain was a stupid idea."

Kakashi shrugged, lifting and setting his glass down in a contemplative tap. "Deny it all you want but your actions – and your drunken mouth – tell a different tale about your parental capability. There's more fact ruining your attempts at fiction Asuma."

"What, you think you can read me, Hatake?"

"Like a book."

Asuma's lip curled a little sourly. "Well here's a fun fact for the record, Kakashi and it's not exclusive. I keep an eye on my students and make sure they don't end up dead or in stupid, unnecessary danger." He looked away, studying the ash stains on the counter, snorting. "Shit. It's what I'm supposed to do, isn't it?"

Kakashi levelled a long, hard stare on the other man. "Asuma, you just went into graphic detail about wanting to dismember a man who Ino could very well have handled without your interference."

Asuma shrugged. "I was in a bad mood."

"Two weeks ago you had one of my ninken hunt Shikamaru down within the walls of our own village."

"So?"

"So?" Kakashi echoed, incredulous. Without hesitation, he played his trump card. "So you said it yourself tonight. You've never gotten over the 'last time' he pulled away from you."

Silence.

Asuma's jaw hardened to the likeness of granite, his entire frame tensing against the counter. An aura of seriousness settled around him like a force field. Kakashi let it hold for a little longer before speaking into the tense sphere of silence, untouched by the general din floating around the bar.

"When you came to me asking for a ninken to track him down, there was fear in your eyes." Kakashi's voice gentled a little. "Do you honestly think Nara Shikaku and your father didn't account for the kind of mentor a child and teenager like Shikamaru would need? They chose you for a reason."

"Give me a break, Kakashi." Asuma snorted, but something uneasy played beneath his flat tone. "I'm not drunk enough for this."

"You wanted my brain to do your math for you, well here's the result. Call it your fiction or call it your front, either way your attempts to fool your way out of your virtues by appealing to your flaws are a joke."

"Are you shitting me?" Asuma chuckled blackly, fingering the neck of one of the saké bottles and spinning it in sharp little twists. "I'm not that deep to play a shell game with my personality. What you see is what you get."

Kakashi dropped his eyelid until his lashes cast a shadow over the crest of his cheek, hiding the frustrated flicker in his grey orb. "You just told me that your Team and Kurenai were the best things that could have happened to you."

"They were." An instant reply. "They are."

"So I'll say it again, it happened to you for a reason, Asuma. It has nothing to do with luck." Kakashi sighed, a tired coarseness roughing the edges of his voice. "You're not the uncommitted bastard you seem to think you are."

Asuma digested these words quietly, looking across after a moment. Sensing the wary glance, Kakashi tapped his hitai-ate, indicating the red eye lurking beneath the surface.

"I see all," he added dryly.

Asuma laughed a little, leaning away. "Yeah, alright Mr. Insight. Guess I asked for all this 'beneath the surface' shit."

"Yes, you did." Kakashi added a meaningful glance to this statement. "Hopefully I didn't just waste two hours of my night."

"Alright, alright." Raising a guilty hand, Asuma ducked his head sheepishly. "I wasn't supposed to be sobering up by the time we got to the point. I was supposed to be drunk enough to forget I even wanted to talk about this."

"But you did," Kakashi pointed out.

Asuma sighed, slouching onto his elbows as he contemplated the contents of the bottles lined up in front of him. It took another few moments of studying the stale remains before he drummed his fingers and reached for a cigarette.

"If I get this worked up over my students, what the hell am I going to be like with my own kid?"

"You'll be as you are."

Asuma looked across, hooking his lip over his cigarette with a slow shake of his head, but his eyes were glinting with humour. "Please tell me you're being profound, because that's a fucking terrible answer."

Kakashi smirked, knocking his glass against one of Asuma's empty bottles. "And I haven't even started drinking yet."

Two shadows.

They streaked like ghosts across the delicate paper walls of the corridor. Floor lamps bathed the fusuma panels, throwing up a dim, buttery light that cast silhouettes clearer than shadow-puppets.

On the walls the shadows touched, but the ones that cast them never did.

She sensed it coming.

He knew she would.

Temari spun in a ripple of honey and black, knocking aside the hand that moved to grab her. Shikamaru twisted his arm, a sharp turn that rolled his wrist over hers. It dislodged the grip she tried to get on him, resulting in a deadlock of fierce chocolate orbs boring into a flash of darkening teal.

"You sure know how to push it," he growled, the shadows slicing along his cheekbones like knives, accentuating the look of sharp, calculated anger cutting into his face.

"That's rich," Temari snapped back. "This is coming from the idiot who pushed all sorts of buttons during those Chūnin exams. Why?"

God dammit, she's just not gonna let this go.

He really needed her to.

"What the hell do you want? Your damn apology?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"What you owe me," she snapped, fists balled at the strong flare of her hips, glaring up at him. "An explanation."

Shikamaru's brow shot up, but on the inside he felt his gut drop and curdle. The acid of a sickening tension ate along his veins, drawing tendons taut. He jammed his hands at his hips to keep from gnarling his fingers into her arms. She ignored the hard look, turning it back on him.

"If you're going to flip out like that in the future, I'd like to be prepared the next time," Temari bit out.

He said nothing, just glared from beneath the coal sweep of his lashes.

Little did she know, he was trying to assert some control over a black, oily feeling slipping into his blood. Something foreign and foul that felt highly flammable under the kind of heat and pressure he normally avoided coming into contact with. It was a sensation that crawled through his veins, looking for flames in his anger but leaving him cold. Cold with the fear of what it might do to him if he followed the black stream back to its origins. The last time he'd felt it, he'd been thrashing beneath Neji in a state of blood and broken bones.

The chords in his neck strung themselves like wire.

Stop. You're over-reacting. Calm down.

Unfortunately Temari took his silence as even more of a challenge, something she never failed to meet head-on and headstrong. "So what is it? Stressed over all the bigwigs that are after your blood? Or was getting drunk out of your mind some celebratory climax? God knows you went out with a literal 'bang'. Twice."

Shikamaru's jaw tightened, eyes dark and deep as polished mahogany. But beneath their hard surface they smouldered, irises blackening around the edges with anger so well contained it was barely discernable.

A poisonous, itchy silence settled between them, contaminating the air.

"Is it the pressure?" Temari whispered cattishly, cocking her hip with a sassy smirk designed to rile him. "Are you cracking up, Nara? Because if you are then you need to get your head fixed."

Shikamaru smirked, the corners of his mouth cutting upward in a bitter, abject imitation of a smile. "Well sure, because if that goes to hell then I'm damaged goods, aren't I?"

Temari blinked hard, taken aback by the venom in his voice. "So was that it? You thought that behaving like an idiot would make them think you were less of a 'prize catch'?"

"No such luck."

"Then just what the hell were you playing at?" She shook her head incredulously, her anger flickering and flashing like an overcharged fuse behind her eyes. "Half of those Daimyos were there to see you, never mind the Genin brats. You put Gaara and me in a position of covering your ass because youcouldn't take the heat." She lowered her voice a deadly notch. "And then you insulted them with your smartass remarks."

"It's called rejection."

"You might as well have told them to get bent. Do you know what tact is?"

Shikamaru shot her a dry look. "Can you even spell it?"

"You ignorant bastard." She balled a fist just shy of throwing a punch. "Do have any idea how dangerous those men can be? Do you have any idea what you could have done!"

"Yes."

Temari snapped her mouth shut, not having expected the quiet but direct reply.

Something in his voice stopped her short of tearing into him again.

"Yes?" She echoed, pulling her head back a fraction in something close to shock. "Then why?"

The muscles in Shikamaru's jaw flexed and bunched as he stared her down, but his eyes remained disturbingly blank and cut-off from the rest of his face. "You think you know me. But you're way out of your depth, Temari."

"I really don't think I'm the one in deep water, Shikamaru."

Shikamaru leaned in very slowly and Temari stiffened as his gaze drew level with hers, head tilted down.

Their noses almost touched.

"Well you know what they say about drowning men, don't you? They tend to pull you under with them." He dropped his focus to her lips. "At the rate you run your mouth off, I doubt you could hold your breath that long."

Temari's shoulders canted back and her head tilted up, a low, throaty laugh tumbling out against his lips like steam. "Now there's the snarky bastardyour friends don't get to see."

They shouldn't have to. Not like this.

Shikamaru blinked slowly, swallowing hard.

She was playing him like a damned piano and the discordant notes firing off inside him were going to give away more than he could ever hope to drag back into the shadows.

"Leave, Temari," he murmured.

She didn't move, her eyes glued to his face, searching. "Why? Am I close, Shikamaru?"

"Yeah, close to pissing me off."

She smirked at that, head tilting cat-like. "At least that's something. Maybe you've got a little impulse in you after all."

His eyes narrowed, slicing his irises into two burning crescents. "Guess there's worse things I could have inside me."

Temari fell quiet at those words, staring at the grooves in his cheeks and the rings under his eyes.

"Stupid kid. You should talk to someone."

"Careful, you're sounding concerned."

"I mean it," she growled, matching him glare for glare. "You're too dangerous to become unhinged."

Of all the things he could've predicted out of her mouth, that sure as hell hadn't been one of them. Shikamaru drew his chin back, arching a brow as he scanned her face for some sign of sarcasm or hint of humour. He found neither.

"Dangerous?" He tilted his brow. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but I got the brains, not the brawn."

"Which makes you twice as dangerous," Temari uttered beneath her breath. "Don't kid yourself, Shikamaru. Daimyos would kill for the level of strategic intelligence you can produce at a minute's notice, even less when you're feeling cooperative. You'll need to start watching your back more than any elite shinobi with twice your level of chakra."

"You're not watching your back. Or maybe you wanted someone to get behind you."

Shikamaru stiffened at the memory, feeling that icy flash wash through him. He controlled it quickly by focusing on Temari's mouth, following the downward turn of her lips.

"Compliments and concern?" He shook his head sarcastically. "This must be physically painful for you."

Temari didn't fall for it, her expression retaining its grave edge as she watched him, passing up the chance to bite back. "You can't run from it, Shikamaru. You're a major player in this big, bad game of political bullshit whether you like it or not."

He managed a weak smirk, his voice flat. "Thanks for the heads up. I'll try not to sell my soul to the highest bidder."

Temari pinned him with a look, eyes glowing. "Don't joke about something like that."

"Hn. You really think I'd do that?"

Her lips tightened with the barest hesitation before she spoke. "Your avoidance tactic of 'bottles and bedrooms' might prove to be child's play compared to how you cope with the pressure you'll come up against in the future."

"Predicting my mind and my moves, Temari?"

"If I'm so far out of my depth, Shikamaru, then I won't predict anything. Not your mind and not your moves." She blinked quickly, wary enough not to take her eyes off him for a fraction of a second. "I honestly don't know what you might do if you were pushed further than you can run or think ahead."

Neither do I…

The realisation struck him cold.

And like an icy, skeletal hand clutching at his vitals, he felt that nauseous shift inside him, his pulse picking up as a door in the back of his mind creaked and groaned under the weight of unwanted memories and repressed fears.

Don't go there.

The urge to escape pushed up inside him like a flood of adrenaline through his veins. It rushed through him so fast it forced out a ragged breath that he barely snatched back before Temari leaned up, gripped the back of his head and pressed her lips to his.

Shikamaru tensed, his shoulders drawing up in shock.

His eyes flew wide.

Confusion smashed against the grain of his adrenaline, tumbling through him in a tangle of sensation. This tangle coiled like a chain, holding him rigidly on the spot, hands still jammed at his waist, hip cocked and torso tilted in the slant he'd taken when he'd leaned in to threaten her space.

Temari had obliterated space altogether.

She held the contact steady, lips settled softly against his.

Softly?

That wasn't a word he'd ever have associated with her. He'd imagined she'd have sharp edges even in her intimacy. That kissing her would come with teeth and split lips and catty, caustic comments. A passion that packed a punch and rattled teeth. Something troublesome and tetchy and way too tough for a man to want to hold.

Not this…

The softness of the kiss threw him. And at the same time, it wrenched open a door to a want he'd been tamping down. It wasn't the Need that Temari reached. That was buried too damn deep, bleeding out and burning up like a wound. She couldn't touch that. But she touched a part of him aching for something to ease the hurt that wouldn't heal.

What the hell wouldn't he give to take the edge off that kind of pain?

What the hell wouldn't he use? Be it something – or someone.

Shikamaru swallowed hard, the sound audible.

He felt her smile against his mouth. "That's what I wanted."

"A kiss, huh?" Shikamaru rasped, unmoving.

"To rattle you," she corrected, drawing back a fraction to level their gazes.

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes hooded. "Congratulations."

Temari chuckled, honey strands shimmering. But then her laughter quietened in her throat, leaving a charged silence between them. It hummed with invitation. He only knew it was extended beyond the realms of possibility when Temari made no move to break the eye contact or move away.

Great. There go my morals – and I'm not even drunk this time.

He read her signal at the same time he returned it.

His gaze dropped to her lips.

Their mouths nudged slowly, sliding together again.

Heat tingled along his spine, the hard planes of his chest tensing. He felt her palm flatten against the lean slabs of his stomach, her nails scratching along the fabric of his top, tracing out the squares of delineated muscle.

He almost bit down on her lip, teeth stopping just short of sinking in.

In that moment, he wouldn't have cared if she'd reached up under his clothes, dug those blood red nails into his flesh and clawed her way into his chest. Clawed out the Need killing him in a place he couldn't reach; killing him in a way he couldn't stop.

Fuck…

Shikamaru stilled his lips against hers and drew his head back.

Temari made no move to follow, watching silently.

He returned her look through shuttered eyes. "Why?"

"Maybe I just want to use you," she whispered, her voice coloured with the same sultry amusement as her eyes. "How's that for your male ego?"

Shikamaru arched a brow. "My male ego really doesn't care."

"Then why ask?"

He considered the question, his eyes not holding the humour of his answer. "Isn't that the chivalrous thing to do?"

"Chivalrous?" Temari echoed, rolling the word around like a sour sweet in her mouth. "I don't believe in white knights, Nara."

Shikamaru arched a brow at the caustic reply. But there was something off-key in her normally smooth contralto, knocking the sass from her eyes and the smirk from her mouth. He couldn't quite place what it was.

Resignation? Regret? A hint of vulnerability behind the vixen's smile?

Temari raised a delicate brow, daring him to comment.

Shikamaru held back on offering any response, trying to resurrect his senses and his scruples without insulting her. Not that he imagined he could at this stage – she looked way too satisfied to care. She knew she'd got a rise out of him; in more ways than one.

How troublesome.

If he hadn't known she was attracted to him, it might have been embarrassing as hell. They watched each other in silence, leaving them in the crossfire of various signals all unspoken but blaringly clear.

Temari blinked slowly, a small and reluctant smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she hummed. "Young," she murmured.

Shikamaru frowned, not understanding.

She shook her head. "I'm not sure whether to be impressed or disappointed."

"Don't short-change me on the insults," Shikamaru returned quietly. "You were doing so well."

"Snarky brat," she muttered, her full lips picking up their sassy curve. "I always do well."

Shikamaru smiled a little. "Humility, Temari, look it up."

"Honesty, Shikamaru," Temari replied, gliding her hand against his chest, pushing hard above the beating heart. "Try it."

Shikamaru canted his weight onto his right hip, pulling his shoulder back to take the pressure off her touch.

"Troublesome."

"Try it," she challenged again.

Shikamaru's jaw ticked. His hands remained rigid at his hips, fingers gnarled. She'd slyly maneuvered him into a corner with those words. But he knew enough about cutting corners to manipulate words into moves.

Temari's fingers pressed harder. "I dare you."

His eyes sparked like onyx, dark and fathomless in the dim corridor.

"Can't drag a shadow into the light," he murmured.

Temari frowned at the cryptic response.

The tension changed and thickened between them.

He didn't budge under the scrutiny of her look and returned it neutrally.

And then the heel of her hand rubbed up, dragging the dark material of his top into creases and folds that pulled softly, arousingly, across his skin. His gaze remained fixed on the teal orbs tracking his reaction, observing the inky stir in his shuttered eyes.

"You're afraid," she said.

He drew a slow breath through his nose to keep from acting on baser instincts. "If you say so."

Temari paused. And then her taunting touch feathered back down to the centre of his chest, fingers flexing before falling away altogether.

"Hell's paradise when you're the devil, Shikamaru," Temari said, edging towards a warning. "Don't stay too long in those shadows of yours. You might begin to get a taste for something darker."

His lip cut upward mirthlessly. "I am my shadows."

"Which might make your darkness far more dangerous than anyone else's if you let yourself fall."

His eyes pinched hard at those words, the air swelling painfully in his lungs before he expelled it in a dismissive snort. "Dramatic, aren't you?"

"No." Temari looked up into the deep opacity of his eyes, frowning. "Honest."

And her honesty was every bit the dangerous light. Shikamaru recoiled from it like a shadow, subconsciously shrinking and closing off parts of himself, shrouding them as murky and dark as his eyes turned in that moment. Like two black stones, reflecting nothing back.

"Spare me," he breathed the words through his teeth.

"Spare yourself, Shikamaru."

He never heard her words.

Black spilt across his mind like ink across a canvas, swallowing sound, blotting out his vision.

He didn't hear the deepening pant of his breaths or the roar of his pulse.

For a moment, there was nothingness.

Even the call of his name didn't penetrate the thickening black.

But the next sound did.

A burst of laughter carried down the corridor, an intrusive fist that punched through the dome of tension holding around him and inside him. It shattered through his mind, breaking the dark aura so suddenly he jolted.

Shit!

"Shikamaru?"

He went rigid for a moment and blinked in rapid snaps, orienting himself. It felt like he'd slipped out of his body and got slammed back in again. He rolled his shoulders with a shuddering breath, coming back to himself, almost dizzy.

Temari had moved forward, head ducked to catch his gaze. "Shikamaru, answer me!"

Answer her? Had she even spoken?

"What?" he whispered.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he replied raggedly, dragging his fingers along his scalp. "I'm fine."

Bullshit. He was pretty sure he'd just blacked out without physically blacking out.

There was an odd sensation of a void having opened up somewhere in his brain, like he'd just been sucked into a black hole. He slid his fingers to his nape, staring blankly, looking dazed. Like he'd come out of a deep state of trance or had been hit by a genjutsu.

What the hell just happened?

Temari's look mirrored the thought. She made no move to touch him, though her stare was so fixed and fierce it might as well have been concrete the way it dragged over his face, her own expression cemented with a sharp frown.

"Shikamaru…"

He rubbed at his eyes, shaking his head. "I just need to sleep."

No lie and logical enough.

That's all he could pin it down to; too much brain work and not enough time to recharge. He was running on empty and it was taking its toll. He needed to shut up and shut down. If he was on the cusp of anything, it would be a damned migraine or madness if he didn't get some sleep.

That's it…I don't give a crap. I'm getting myself a big fucking bottle, gluing it to my face and I'm blacking out for real…I'm sick of this insomniac shit…it's turning me into a fucking wreck.

As he consolidated this plan in his mind, he didn't sense Temari's gaze tracing over him slowly. There was something in her eyes that hadn't touched them in three years. A look that she'd carried as a child. It had stolen the light from her eyes, turning curious wonder into a bleak knowing. A look that had wiped away innocence, leaving behind something defensive and desolate.

A look of deep concern and grave wariness all wrapped into one haunting stare.

A stare that up until now, she'd only ever set on Gaara.

TBC.

A/N: I imagine there may be some WTF reactions to the ShikaTema slant in there. I'm sure screams of "THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE SHIKANEJISHIKA-A-A-A" might haunt me tonight, but honestly, I respect these characters enough to write them as they want/need to be written. They both had (and still have) lives, problems, ties, pasts, people and unresolved dramas before they had each other. But that's not to say that anyone else or anything else could ever take away from what they gave/give each other. Perhaps this will make more sense in the impending ShikaNejiShika chapter for this fic. I am covering my arse here, but ultimately, I trust you guys to get what I'm hoping will 'get got' by the end of this. Thank you. You may beat the plot-rabbit with wild abandon. ^_^
- 5
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

On The Cusp