#nqj chess

[notquitejiraiya]

Chess [30] - {ShikaTema AU}

It’s been a while. Exams are vile and get in the way, but I’m back now!!

I hope you enjoy :)

[READ/COMMENT ON AO3]

CHAPTER THIRTY

“You okay, Temari?”

She turned to her brother sharply and nodded. The road seemed to be going on forever, and after sitting in the passenger seat of the van for nearly four hours Temari was ready to jump out. She was grateful that, after talking some things through with Baki, Kankuro was perkier and humming along to the radio as he drove, but that didn’t ease her anxiousness to get home. Every sign she saw counted down the distance, but it never seemed to move fast enough for her racing mind.

The useless phone in her pocket seemed to jab at her with every fidgety movement she made. It hurt how much she longed to hear it ring and that weary voice breathe life into the device once more after over two days, and she kept getting lost in her visions of such impossibilities. 

“Sorry,” said Kankuro, a subtle crack in his voice. “I know how much you hate visiting Mum.”

Temari shrugged. “It’s not that I hate it, the place just holds too much hate for me, and that’s not your fault—it’s his,” she sighed, letting her eyes flicker down to her restless fingertips. “And, besides, it’s nice visiting Baki.”

“His advice is always good.”

“It is.”

The radio lingered in the background, and a familiar song suddenly started spilling from the speakers. Temari bit down on her lip as she recognised it as one which had been playing in Shikamaru’s car on Saturday, and felt her heart leap a little as the man’s voice sounded. Kankuro leaned over to adjust the channel, disgruntled, but she smacked his hand away to turn it up. “Why are you so miserable all of a sudden?” Temari crossed her arms as a chill crept in through the air vents. “Are you still het up about Suki?”

“I just don’t know why I flip out like I do with girls,” he mumbled, his eyes flicking toward her cautiously, “and I don’t need you to analyse me to tell me it’s about Mum being gone, but—”

“It’s fine.” She smiled and elbowed him gently. “You only had me to help you understand women growing up, and I’m not sure most women are like me.”

Kankuro let out a faint chuckle. “Well, Gaara turned out fine with that.”

“Gaara’s never been cheated on—it’s completely different.”

“I don’t want to sound like a wimp, Temari, but it’s every single time,” he grumbled. “Do I treat girls badly? Am I that much like Dad?”

“You’re nothing like Dad, Kankuro.”

He laughed in a somewhat maniacal fashion, and Temari didn’t like it. “But I am. You’ve said it yourself.”

“Yeah, well I can be a bitch, can’t I?” She waiting for a calmer expression to settle on her brothers face. “Look, we can drive back and forth to Suna to visit Mum’s grave or talk to Baki, but you’re the one who’s got to put their foot down and say you’re not going to take it anymore.” Temari let out a chuckle. “And I can pick apart all the differences between you and Dad psychologically to make you feel better all you want, but the fact still remains that Dad did love Mum. He might even have loved us.”

“I don’t care if he did or didn’t love us, Tem. I just want to stop scaring people off.”

There was something so pitiful in his voice—a sadness Temari hadn’t heard in many years. She had to admit this had become routine with him and women, and the only one who hadn’t been turned off by Kankuro’s intense attempts at romance had become the source of much laughter for the other siblings. The way Temari saw it, other than crazy poem lady, women saw Kankuro as shallow and so most treated him that way in return. It was cruel, but she could understand their reasoning, and when they didn’t follow that path for whatever reason, she’d watch her brother fumble about with clichés to a point where Temari could barely listen to the poor wretch.

Right now, watching his glazed eyes stare ahead at the highway, she wished a slap on the back could solve everything for her. It was more than just a little frustrating of him to sit there, clearly fishing for relationship advice, after all he’d said to her the last few weeks. But, just as always, Temari found it difficult not to voice her opinion.

If he wants help, she thought, I’m not sugar coating it.

Temari threw her head back onto the chair with a sigh. “Well, for starters, stop trying to be extravagant. Not everyone likes that.”

“Do you?”

“Nope, I despise it.”

“But what about that bloke who wrote you a song?”

“Why do you think I dumped him, Kankuro?”

He smiled, properly this time, and Temari felt something settle in her chest. “I can’t speak for all women, but I just like knowing someone will back me up if I need them to.”

“Well, I can do that.”

Temari screwed her nose up. “Maybe, but you don’t listen. Listening is the important bit.”

Although he didn’t seem to understand her, her brother nodded along. “I’ll always back you up, Temari, you can count on me. If our roles were reversed and you’d been cheated on I would’ve punched someone by now—I’m surprised you didn’t.”

She tried not to ball her fists, each word he said growing less meaningful. “Thankfully I have some level of self control.”

“And you’re too smart to find yourself in my shoes,” he chuckled. “Or at least you used to be.”

Her head turned slowly. “Meaning?”

Kankuro said nothing, simply snorted and shrugged without even glancing her way, and she didn’t need more than a second to understand what he meant.

“So it’s like that, is it?” she spat. “Go on, then: explain it to me.”

“What?” He sounded defensive, and it riled her up beyond belief. As if he had the right to act dumbfounded. “Explain what?”

“You know what, moron: Shikamaru,” she growled. Her stomach twisted into knots as the radio continued to play that song, almost as if it was rooting for her. “What exactly is your problem with him?”

“I don’t have—”

“Don’t lie to me. Spit it out.”

Kankuro “Tem, you know…he’s y—”

“Don’t give me the ‘he’s your patient’ bullshit.” She imitated him with her go-to mimic of sassy quote marks and narrow eyes. Temari thought he might’ve laughed if not for the menacing stare that accompanied it. “He isn’t, and he won’t ever be again.”

“You worked, Tem. You can’t let that go to waste.”

“Now you sound like Dad. Is that really what you want?”

Her brother shot her a maddened glance as he pulled off the highway, and she could see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Immediately she knew she’d struck a nerve, but after all the harsh words he’d dealt her on the topic in the past, Temari found it near on impossible to feel sorry for the man. She wanted to—she really did—and she knew the connotations of what she had said, but since that chess board had been shelved two weeks ago logic felt almost meaningless.

Temari found herself driven more by emotion every day thanks to Shikamaru’s obscure place in her life; he slotted in perfectly to this puzzle she’d build for herself without even meaning to, and while that scared her to death it also filled her with this sense of self she’d never quite felt before. These past few weeks, as mind-bendingly frustrating as they had been at times, cemented the fact she was allowed to be angry just as much as Kankuro was. More than that she was allowed to feel happy, however that feeling came about, just as Shikamaru was. 

Proudly, Temari looked back at the road and crossed her arms tight across her chest. “I thought as much,” she gloated to herself quietly as she twisted the volume knob of the radio up slightly, but Kankuro’s arm snapped out, instantly turning it right down.

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you, okay?” he said, desperate annoyance lingering on his tongue. “I don’t want anyone to hurt my sister while I can help it.”

“Your sister can think for herself, and fend for herself.” Temari shook her head, staring out the window. “It’s honestly offensive how incapable you think I am, Kankuro. Do you realise that?”

“I know you can fend for yourself, but you aren’t—”

“I am capable of doing all the things I need to be able to do without your help,” she snarled. “I didn’t have to come with you. I could’ve let you go alone, or even have taken a leaf out of your book and forbid you to go where you wanted.”

“You couldn’t do that.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

They pulled up to a traffic light and the pair jolted from the aggressive breaking.

Temari’s head turned, the tip of her nose twitching. “That’s the difference between us, Kankuro,” she said bluntly. “I care about you, and that’s why I let you make mistakes and learn from them. I can’t count the number of times I could’ve thrown out your girlfriend because I thought she’d hurt you, and she did. Being loving—caring for each other—it isn’t about control!”

Kankuro slouched, checking his mirrors. “You don’t have to tell me that—I’m not Dad!”

“Could’ve fucking fooled me!”

He moved off with a start and turned the radio up sharply. Suddenly Phil Collins voice didn’t feel empowering, it ground against her brain until all she heard was static. There wasn’t even an ounce of her that felt bad anymore, she was sick of being treated like a child by such an immature moron, but she couldn’t help noticing that raising her voice of the radio was just angering her more than it was changing his mind.

Kankuro wasn’t going to listen more just because she shouted, he’d just shout back—childhood screaming matches had taught her enough about such things. She had to try a different approach if she wanted to get out of this car with her vocal chords still in tact.

“Look,” she sighed, anger still apparent in her new, somewhat softer tone, “I get that you want me to be safe, but—”

“And not get fired.” Kankuro didn’t move his eyes, just grumbled.

“But this, all of this, just isn’t fair, Kankuro.” She spun in her seat, facing him. “Can you really not see that I won’t get sacked? That it’s just some stupid excuse you’ve zoned in on?”

He huffed despairingly, finally turning off the radio entirely. “But you worked, Tem,” he said, “Too hard—to just throw everything out over the first lost puppy you fancy.”

Her cheeks grew hot. “Lost puppy—can you even hear yourself, you absolute twat!” Who was she kidding? That softness in her voice hadn’t been built to last.

“You’ve got inside his head, you know you have—you always do!” Kankuro scoffed. “This is what always happens with you and guys. You get in their heads, whether you mean to or not.”

“You’ve never mentioned that before,” she spat. “Why is it suddenly a problem now?”

“Because you’re letting him in your head, Tem. You’re practically wearing a kick me sign constantly.”

“Why does everything have to be an argument with you?”

“With you, you mean.”

“Oh, you’re proper mature, aren’t you, Kankuro?”

“If you keep leading him on, Tem, he will end up hurting you.”

Temari almost tore off her seat belt and threw herself out onto the pavement. Her mind was racing so much faster than her body could move, and by the time he’d shaken his head she was one wrong word away from punching him square in the face. She’d tried being calm, however weak an attempt it was, and she’d tried to understand his stupid reasoning. Temari wasn’t sure what more she was supposed to do. There was no way she could feasibly sit here and take in another lie from him without hitting him. She knew she had to  ignore him in order to go in for the kill, and she needed to do so calmly.

Slowly but surely, Temari adjusted her position in the seat and took a deep, calming breath. She could see his eyes change beside her as a wave of terror overtook him; this was what she always did when she was past the point of no return. “Kankuro,” she tried slowly, “for one minute can you just stop spouting mindless drivel and shut up? You don’t know him—and what you do know of him is frankly harmless.” Temari balled her fists, ready for the next wave of excuses, and hid them underneath her thighs as though to restrain herself. “Besides, even if he, or anybody else, fucked with me and hurt me, I’m perfectly capable of punching them myself, thank you very much.”

Kankuro bit down on his lip. A distressed expression was quickly weaving its way between the angry lines around his eyes. “Tem—”

“No. Don’t ‘Tem’ me. You don’t have to do this—any of this. It’s not some brotherly requirement. Gaara doesn’t do it—he never would.”

“Temari, listen—”

“No, you listen to me for once, alright? You just fucking listen!” When turned to her, he seemed surprised to see she was holding back tears. It wasn’t something he was used to seeing, but she couldn’t quite comprehend how he thought she wouldn’t be upset by his words. Her snapping, breaking the facade of being collected, was impossible to stop, and as embarrassed as she now was by the wetness around her eyes she refused to wipe it away. “More than that, I don’t want you to do this,” she added, her voice cracking slightly. “I want you to let me live my life and you just live your own.”

He was perturbed now, no doubt, but it just wasn’t enough. She could see it, and she was ready to interrupt the moment he opened his mouth. “But he’s—”

“He’s what?”

“Damaged…”

Temari threw her weight back in the chair and laughed. “Oh, fuck you…”

“What?” Kankuro shifted awkwardly in his seat. He was clearly afraid of her now, and she didn’t care. She just kept on laughing, the tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“Damaged?” She shook her head in amazement at his sheer idiocy. “Take a second to remember that Gaara is also ‘damaged’ as you like to say,” she snarled. "Does that mean the guy he went out with on Saturday should run? Run away from our little, damaged brother before it’s too late to turn back?”

Something was changing in his eyes as he smashed down the indicator, turning left and zooming past the pub. Thank god they were almost home—she couldn’t wait to escape this stupid van and ignore the bastard for another week.

“Of course not,” he said calmly.

Victory was in sight.

“Exactly,” Temari agreed. “So why is it any different for Shikamaru? Why is he not allowed to find love?”

She saw his ears perk up and his eyes flash to look at her. Shit.

“Love?”

Temari had to admit it: the tone was convincing enough that she’d even pondered the word herself for a moment too long. She gulped, rolling her eyes, and decided he didn’t deserve an answer.

“I’m sorry.” The voice was feeble, almost shaky. It took Temari right back to her childhood, and she vividly remembered the moments after he’d spilled apple juice all over her GameBoy. Her blood started to boil at the memory, but she forced her attention back to the present with great effort to see Kankuro chewing nervously on his lip. “You’re right,” he admitted. “It’s not my job to control your life.”

“No,” she repeated. “It isn’t.”

“I’m sorry for pissing you off, and for yelling at you.”

There was a beat as he pulled to the side of the road, smiling at her hopefully until she wiped her eyes and forced one in return. 

“Well, I’m not sorry for yelling at you at all,” she sighed as the van ground to a halt. “Your whole argument is built on hypocrisy and…bullshit.”

Kankuro reached over, avoiding her eyes, and gave her hand a quick squeeze as he hopped out of the car. Once the frustration settled slightly and her shoulders softened, Temari followed suit with a smile that felt a lot more real. Even if it was impossible to tell how much, she had achieved something from this.

“So, explain,” her brother started, mimicking the bitter tone which she had begun the fiasco, “what exactly is so good about this boyfriend of yours?”

“He isn’t my boyfriend.”

He started laughing as he hauled their bags out the back of the van. “Oh, honestly—the nerve you’ve got.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“I just mean, after ten solid minutes or more of yelling I’d almost rather he was, you know? It’d be worth the bullshit.”

Temari felt herself blush as she pushed the van doors shut. “So, you don’t mind if I see him again?”

“Oh,” he laughed, “I really fucking mind.”

“Kankuro…” Her low voice came as a warning, but she wasn’t sure she had the patience to go through it all again.

He shrugged. “Just hate the idea of someone shagging my sister. It’s gross.”

Temari, holding back a smirk she was desperate not to show, whacked him in the knees with her holdall and laughed as he wobbled. “You’re gross, but I guess I get that.”

“You know you can’t make me like him?”

She nodded and backed away towards the front door. “I know, and I don’t need you to,” she smiled. “But I do need you to stop being a nutcase about him.”

“Nutcase?”

“No more creepy texts to Gaara, and no more confronting him at work.”

Kankuro held back a laugh, pursing his lips. She didn’t like that look. It was playful, yes, but he looked like a child ready to jump on the sandcastle she’d just spent hours perfecting—not that such a memory still angered her to this day or anything.

“Say you won’t do it, Kankuro.”

“Fine,” he laughed, throwing a set keys for her to catch. “I won’t do it.”

“You swear?”

There was a tut and a telling eye roll before he nodded. “I promise.”

~~~

Torso wrapped tightly in a towel, Temari hurried back into her bedroom still high on the steam of the bathroom. The feeling of warm water on her skin had felt impossibly good after hours sat stiffly in the van; her body felt wonderfully relaxed. Her mind, however, was still racing.

Her eyes darted to the screen of her charging phone as it lit up. Unable to wait she threw her damp hair up and pulled the first jumper she reached over her head. As it settled on her shoulders she noticed the faintest hint of Shikamaru’s minty shampoo and a warm feeling started to grow in her abdomen, but she didn’t let it slow her down for more than a second. Temari hopped over to her desk, half dressed and took the phone in her hand. Fifty-percent charged—that was enough for now.

She tore the cable from it and fell back onto her bed, tapping in four digits to unlock the world she’d longed for these last few days.

4 missed calls

2 voicemails

It felt like Christmas all over again when she read the name.

Temari had never clicked on something so fast. She pressed the phone against her ear, grinning proudly.  

“Tem, um, hi…”

A shiver flew down her spine.

Shikamaru cleared his throat quickly. “I’m, um, just checking in ‘cause you said you’d call and, well, um…you haven’t.” She heard a heavy sigh. “I, um, I just wanted to say sorry I didn’t stick around when your brother turned up. I hope whatever happened isn’t that much of a disaster that you won’t call.” The cough sounded again, and she realised that his voice was almost a whisper. Not just that, he sounded impossibly sad—nervous with all of his stutters and mumbles. Whenever she had come face to face with this man’s sadness before, it had been laced with the same deadpan tone he held ninety-percent of the time he spoke. “Please,” he mumbled, his monotone voice clearly worried. “Call me.”

She tore the phone from her ear and immediately tapped the second message, bracing her chest to hear the same pitiful voice echoing down the line. But it didn’t come. 

“Right, hello,” said a voice so confidently bright she almost didn’t recognise it. “He won’t admit to it but he really misses you—he refuses to talk about you when I ask. Right now he’s out smoking but the idiot’s left his phone in here as if I’m not going to ring you, and he knows I know his password is password—and so do you now, shit.”

There was a spritely laugh and a sweet snort. It was Choji, no doubt about it.

“I hear that you’re busy and can’t reach him, but if there’s some chance you get this, please call him.”

Something Temari could only pin as sickening worry shot through her.

“He’s fine,” he added, “don’t worry or anything when you hear this.”

Too late, she wished she could say, already trying to steady herself.

“But just give him a shout, yeah? He won’t admit it, but it’s pretty much all he wants.” There was a soft chuckle and what sounded like non-committal shouting in the background. She chuckled. Choji had been rumbled. “Okay, cheers—see you soon, Ma—bye! Look, Shikamaru, mine died and I had to ring Ma about dinner and—”

The line went dead and Temari found herself giggling. She was glad to have had her life touched by such kind people. Shikamaru stole the limelight, but knowing one of those people was Choji—one of the nicest men she’d had the pleasure of meeting—made her excited at the thought of meeting the rest of his circle.

Temari blinked harshly and shook her head and almost started laughing at herself. He hadn’t even introduced her to his other friend—to Ino—and there was still some nagging part in her brain wondering why. Sudden and unwarranted waves of jealousy still plagued her now and again. After all, what if Kankuro was right? What if there was something there—some unspoken history he’d never admit to?

“Oh, get over yourself, girl,” she told herself sharply. “When is Kankuro ever right?”

Grumbling, she let her eyes drift back down to her phone and scrolled through the messages that had been sent. Most of them read the same, a simple ‘hi’ and nothing more, but the very last two changed. Temari bit down on her lip to stop herself grinning like an idiot as her frustrations subsided, replaced only with excitement.

(13:18) Shikamaru: Hi. Gaara told me where you are, so ignore all my pointless messages.

(13:32) Shikamaru: It’s weird not hearing your voice. Let me know when you’re home safe, yeah? x

Never in her life had Temari been happier to see the letter ‘x’.

—> I’m home x

She dropped the phone on her bed beside her and reached for a pair of leggings. They were barely over her thighs by the time her phone buzzed, and her head shot around.

(22:46) Shikamaru: Good x

Unable to contain her excitement, Temari’s thumb was already hovering over the call button at the top of the screen when it buzzed a second time. 

(22:46) Shikamaru: I’m outside x

She retracted her thumb, checked her doorway was empty of siblings, and quickly tapped out a response as she sprinted downstairs to look out of the front window. She could see the shadow of a ponytail as he stepped into the spotlight of a streetlamp, and watched him point up to her front door.

—> You can’t come in x

(22:47) Shikamaru: Kankuro’s in then x

—>I spoke to him and he might not deck you anymore but dont wanna push it x

The little laugh she watched him let out was beautiful. Temari didn’t realise how much she’d missed the little shudder of his shoulders until it was right before her, and she couldn’t hold herself back from pressing call on her phone. The moment the phone hit her ear he had answered and she bit down on her bottom lip, stopping herself from pressing herself against the window as if that would somehow close the distance between them.

It felt pathetic, but Temari didn’t care.

She smirked at the clearing of his throat, aware he couldn’t see her. “Have you been following me?”

“Nah,” he laughed. “You’re such a pain to keep track of, though, you know that?”

“Well, you found me.”

Shikamaru shook his head. “Bad luck on my part,” he sneered. “I saw the van go past while I was having a ciggie outside the pub. Choji probably hasn’t even noticed I’ve abandoned him for you yet.”

Temari snorted and immediately blushed, grateful for the distance between them as he chuckled to himself. “Ah, so the man has drink in him?”

“Oh, yeah—I’m all orange-juiced up,” he nodded.

“Did Choji give you an extra straw yet?”

“Of course he didn’t.”

She laughed, pressing her fingertips against the windowpane. “I missed you,” she whispered gently down the line, half expecting to see him outwardly cringe, but instead she saw him simply take a puff of cigarette. It was almost disappointing. 

“I’m sure you did,” he tutted, “you’re obsessed with me.”

Temari let herself sit on her windowsill and leaned against the window as she’d longed to do from the moment she saw him, opening the window a crack. The night wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been before she left for her godfather’s, and there was a subtle warmth drifting through the February air. She heard the echo as he cleared his throat bounced around the terraced houses as well as down the phone line, and didn’t bother holding back her grin. She really had missed him. But she couldn’t say that again. It would be weird. Yes, by now they were good friends—it was fine for friends to miss each other, but it wasn’t fine for her to still be thinking back to last week and the way he’d stormed into her office. The way he’d grabbed her waist and kissed her—kissed every part of her—wasn’t an acceptable train of thought to have every time she saw caught sight of him.

“So,” she started, desperate to derail the ideas racing in her mind, “have you met Chojuro yet?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied sharply.

Temari nodded. “He’s good. He’ll help you.”

“So I hear.” It was clear to see him stiffen up at the thought of it. Shikamaru began kicking the leaves at his feet, his shoulders hunched that slightest bit more than before. Temari couldn’t help wondering if he felt what she did; that this was the end somehow. “I won’t mention you.”

“I don’t mind,” she told him with a giggle, hoping a happy tone of voice might loosen those burdened shoulder. If only she could sprint down right now and hug him until she felt that stiffness fade away. “But if you do, call me something else don’t I don’t lose my job, okay?”

Shikamaru shrugged and dropped his cigarette, squishing it. “Fine. I’ll call you Tara.”

“Don’t like it.”

“Tori then.”

“Worse.”

“Tori it is.”

The moment she’d said it, Temari regretted it. It wasn’t even far enough from her name for a man like Chojuro not to pick up on what lay behind it, but she suspected that this was nothing more than a wind up. Shikamaru wasn’t stupid—she new it for a fact, as much as she questioned it in every day moments. If driving her mad and irritating her in jest was going to put a spring in his step, as it seemed to do, she wasn’t ever going to let him stop. Now the shit-eating grin across his lips was so clear it stood out in the darkness, and Temari couldn’t help the smug feeling that swarmed her.

She’d done that, put that smile on his face, and nothing had ever felt quite like this. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d even been this proud when she’d received her degree. Why was she so pleased with herself for making a man smile that she couldn’t keep her own excitement at bay? Watching those perfectly broad shoulders jitter with another chuckle, Temari made the executive decision to ask Gaara once she went up to bed.

Look at you, Temari, she cursed, a therapist having to ask her little brother what her feelings mean…

She looked up at the stars above them, shining brighter than they had even back in her hometown last night, and her heart swelled as she heard Shikamaru’s laugh bounce around the houses once again. “What?” she asked. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing’s funny,” he told her, “I’m just happy.”

It was nearly impossible not to jump out the window and run to him.

A small smile spread across her lips. She’d repeated to everyone that he wasn’t her patient anymore for what felt like forever, and she’d known from the start that the most difficult person to convince of that would be herself. But, as she watched him raise a new cigarette to his lips, Temari instantly noticed the change in her approach to him, and she realised it wasn’t difficult at all.

Since she had met Shikamaru, Temari had been determined to fix him—that is what her job had been, after all, and he had asked her to do it. But now all she needed was to see that smile. She didn’t care who put it there, or uncrossed all the wires that might’ve been jumbled in his mind. As of now, that wasn’t her responsibility, even if she wanted it to be. Her responsibility was to be a friend for him to fall back on when he needed her; to be someone to rely on for encouragement, or a laugh when things seemed dark again. She was never going to stop wanting him to be better, or stop wanting to rid him of the troubles he carried in his mind, but Temari realised now that it had never really been her job to do that.

Shikamaru had entered her office that day for one reason, and she knew she had failed to provide him with what he really needed from the start. It was clear to Temari now that whether she succeeded or failed in the past really mattered—she wasn’t the person who was supposed to do this. He had stepped into that office and in doing so he had gained a friend; that’s all she needed to be for him now.

Maybe, one day, he would want more from her than just a helping hand. With all her might she longed to care for him in a way that wasn’t ruled by science and logic. She wanted to hear about the intricacies of his feelings and take them in, hold him if he cried just so he knew someone was there; no words or analysis required or wanted. There was something perfect to her about comfort without reason or explanation, just because she could and because she wanted to.

But what Temari wanted, in reality, faded into nothing with perspective. All she could think of that mattered in this very moment was him, right there, staring up at with a smile.

“I should get back to Choji.”

The warm feeling that had spread through her chest was momentarily accompanied by a jab in the gut. This was it. “Oh, right,” she mumbled. “Okay, then.”

Every hitch in her breath said it clearly wasn’t, and even Shikamaru wasn’t far enough away to ignore the sudden change in her posture. “I can stay on the phone if you want,” he offered.

“I’m a big girl I don’t need you to do that,” she scoffed, stubborn as ever. As if she’d ever admit she did, in fact, want to hear him talk longer—forever in fact. She knew the change was coming, she wanted it, but that didn’t mean she was reader for him to leave tonight.

“But you missed me.” He started walking away backwards, only a few steps, but he seemed a world away. “Wouldn’t want to deny you more of my voice?”

“Well, the voice I can live without.”

There was a pause and an awkward cough from his end of the phone.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Shikamaru.”

I definitely did.

“Temari, your mind is filthy.”

She blushed, a devilishness creeping to the forefront of her mind. “I’m not the one who likes it when they’re—”

“No!” he spat over her. Shikamaru stopped dead, pointing back at her accusatively.  “Not while I’m walking down the street. Let me keep my dignity, woman.”

Temari was sure that she’d get noise complaints come the morning from the laughter that flew out the window into the open air. He sent the same, cackling laugh right back, and that same overwhelming feeling of pride crept over her. It almost broke her when they finally fell silent and he raised his hand to say goodbye, slow and solemn.

He didn’t want to leave either, and he was barely even hiding it, but he began stepping back anyway. As much as it felt terrible, Temari knew she had to let him disappear around the corner. It hadn’t felt real that he’d be moving on until his departure right now. It was finally sinking in that, when she’d see him next, she’d have no reason for her to consider him her responsibility; he’d be another patient come tomorrow morning, and this part of their lives had ended. Temari had no idea what would follow, and she could only hope things fell into place as they did when her eyes fluttered shut at night, but for now she needed to let go of the first patient she had made smile and watch him grow into the man she knew he could be, the man she wanted.

Temari gulped, suddenly realising exactly what that feeling in her chest was.

“Night,” said Shikamaru, cutting through the silence with the cleanest and most careful voice.

“Goodnight. I’ll call you,” she mumbled, waving meekly in return. “Really this time, no bullshit.”

She couldn’t see his smile anymore when he grew silent, but she prayed it was there.

“Temari?”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you so much.”

Temari bit down on her lip as unwanted tears formed in her waterline. “I know, flower boy,” she sighed. “I know.”

[friendlyfourrp-blog]

I can definitely see Gosalyn playing with toys, but does Tank play with toys or does he prefer books?

NQJ: “He prefers books. Occasionally we’ll play chess or checkers together. Even puzzles and those arts and crafts kits. He’s not much of a toy person, but I do tell him to at least have some exercise each day outside at least. Even book nerds need a little fresh air and sunlight.”

[notquitejiraiya]

Chess [32] - {ShikaTema AU}

Only 2 chapters left! 34 will be the finale. I really hope you enjoy this chapter - it’s a long one.

As always, thank you for the support you give me and this fic - it means the world to me!

[READ/COMMENT ON AO3]

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Shikamaru sighed as he stepped back from the window, wiping his hands on his apron with eyes still fixed on the shop opposite. He was sure, for a moment, that he’d seen a flash of blonde hair peep through the glass above the window display, but that seemed far too convenient to be true. After his talk with Ino he was considerably less annoyed with himself, but there was a worry that clambered to his attention—stung, even. And when two blonde ponytails rose from behind the stacks of woodwork again, for certain this time, Shikamaru found himself frozen solid.

“Hey! There you go,” Ino chirped from behind him, clearly seeing the same thing, “you didn’t even need to call Temari—she’s already here to see you.”

Usually, Ino’s excitement would get on his nerve’s, but today he found it hard not to smile at her as he turned briefly. If she could see it, he wasn’t going mad—Temari was really there, just a stone’s throw away. Still, as he hurled a couple of left over pieces of flower arranging foam in her general direction, Shikamaru rolled his eyes all the same. “Ah, yes,” he groaned sarcastically, “there she is in her brother’s shop, very clearly here to see me and not him.”

“Shikamaru, she—”

A clattering of metal and a shout echoed across the street and both heads whipped round in tandem to look at the carpenter’s. It was seemingly fine from where they stood; no movement from the blonde except a quick shake of her head and the movement of another silhouette deeper within the shop which could only be Kankuro. But such a noise didn’t come from nothing—something must have gone awry over there.

Momentarily, a shiver crossed Shikamaru’s shoulders. They were fighting, weren’t they? Why else would there be such a godawful racket and shouting to follow?

That didn’t exactly sit well. Slinking away to the back of the shop, his head ducked down, it was all too apparent to Shikamaru that the last reason the two siblings had fallen out was him—he was the reason—and he didn’t know why exactly past Kankuro’s general dislike for him; something he didn’t fully understand even now. Based off of Temari’s message last night, he had assumed the two made up on that topic, but from what he was seeing that line of thinking seemed questionable at best. Don’t push it, she had told him. The more he thought on those three words, the less comforted he felt.

He retreated to the corner behind the cash register and cleared his throat awkwardly. “So,” he mumbled halfheartedly, eyes focusing in on the clipboard his colleague had brought downstairs, “looks like a busy day on Friday.”

Ino raised her eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

“What?” Shikamaru shrugged and leaned against the counter. “I was just—”

“You were just changing the subject.” She tossed the foam she held in her hands toward him, and tutted when he missed deliberately. “Go,” she instructed. “Go over to that shop—right now.”

Shikamaru laughed, trying to ignore the beads of sweat he could feel seeping through his hairline. No way in hell was he getting involved over there. Those two were insane enough separately for him to know that the last thing he wanted was to be sandwiched between them in a room full of sharp objects.

He almost felt obliged to explain to Ino how utterly stupid the idea she’d just suggested truly was, and threatened to ask if she really wanted him to return in five minutes, scarred by the noise and possibly even missing his right hand. Instead he shook his head and simply said, “Not a fucking chance.”

“You’re afraid of her brother, aren’t you?” she smirked. “Admittedly, he could probably kill you.”

“Encouraging as always, Ino,” he deadpanned, shaking his head. “You’re probably right, but I’m more afraid of irritating either of them than getting attacked by that madman.”

She scoffed. “Last time he was here you weren’t exactly nice.”

“In my defence, I didn’t expect to see Temari ever again at that point.”

“Right, well,” began Ino, “if you can hold your ground—which we know you can from last time he was here—why aren’t you over there right now talking to her?”

Shikamaru ducked his head a little further, hand shooting to the back of his neck as he hoped to hide the redness enveloping his expression. “It’s a bit personal to talk about everything in front of that guy, Ino.”

“But you’d talk about it in front of me, right?”

He laughed bitterly without a second’s thought, and immediately averted his eyes as far from Ino as he could. It was an attempt to ignore her dramatic enactment of what Shikamaru could only assume was him stabbing her in the back, but he saw it all the same. “Grow up,” he muttered, forcing back a smile at his friend before letting his eyes wander before zoning straight back in on the carpenter’s.

Everything seemed to have died down—no movement at all now. Instinctively Shikamaru pried his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and grumbled at the lack of messages. It was infuriating being able to see the back of her head, yet being powerless to making it turn without interfering. He just wanted her to look his way so he could see those eyes. There was no desire to get in her way, or force her out of her routine, just a simple turn would be satisfying enough for him—it would make his day that much better in a single second. Seeing her eyes from a distance was better than not seeing them at all, that was for sure.

I could ring her, he thought to himself as he opened her contact page hesitantly. His eyes darted between the screen and those blonde ponytails one final time, and he bit down on his lip hard.

“While you’re at it, ask her out, yeah?”

He turned to Ino whose arms were tightly crossed. “What?”

“It’s not hard, Shikamaru. Whilst you ring her, which you’re so obviously about to do, ask her out,” she said smugly. “And not for fish and chips like last time, cheapskate.”

Shikamaru could feel his face heating up, and shook his head rapidly as he slotted the phone back into his jeans. “No,” he told her calmly. “I’m supposed to talk to her about my appointment—that’s what she wants to speak about.”

“And what about after that conversation has dried up, huh? What will you talk about then? Because you’re sure as hell not going to hang up immediately, are you?” Ino grinned as soon as he rolled his eyes in response, clearly aware that he wasn’t going to offer a counterargument . “I’m sure,” she added, “that she only wants an excuse to talk to you, just like you wanted an excuse to talk to her.”

He had to admit that such a thought was comforting beyond belief. It made sense, somehow, that she would weave reasons from every part of his day, every event, that   made it acceptable to talk to him. After all, he’d done the same to her. He’d texted her last night just to tell her he’d got home safe, knowing full well she knew he would, just in the hope that she’d reply to him and tell him goodnight. Of course, she had—she’d wished him goodnight and arranged their call this morning in that moment, too.

He had had, just as she’d wished him, a brilliant night’s sleep. Even his dreams had been brilliant—brighter and more exciting than they had ever been. For a moment he contemplated telling her about the dream he’d had: the way she’d sat in his parents garden in it, staring up at the clouds in the sky, and the smile on her face. He thought about telling her how it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and how impressive it had been when she’d made the wind dance around her in spectacular turrets to block the path to her, only to let them settle when her eyes lay on him.

The smile he remembered wearing in his dream plastered across his face. She’d made his path easier, even in dreams—he wanted to tell her that.

But it was boring, wasn’t it, to talk about ones dreams? Even a woman whose everyday revolved around the inner workings of peoples minds surely cared more for the real world than midnight fantasies. Shikamaru knew how much he hated it when Choji harped on about his recurring orangutan nightmare—how did he know this was any more interesting? How did he know if it wasn’t creepy that he’d dreamed about her?

What if she’d dreamed about me? The smile on his lips grew giddy, and he blinked his way out of his web of wild thoughts quickly. If she missed him as she’d said, there was a chance she had. It made sense, just as much as her desire to talk to him did, but he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around such a notion.

“You want to ask her out—admit it.”

“Fine,” he relented, “I do.”

“Well, good,” Ino giggled as she said it, cheeky as ever, “because looks like she’s coming right now.”

All he could get out as his eyes caught hers through the window was a whispered curse. Shikamaru scurried out from behind the desk, and without thinking her hurtled towards the stairs, rushing up them three steps at a time. His mind raced with everything he could possibly say to her—how was he supposed to choose what was important and wasn’t anymore? Hell, why had he hidden himself away upstairs the moment he’d caught sight of her after praying she’d turn to look at him only moments ago? There was no logic to that, no sense at all, much like the jumble of words clambering to be heard in his mind right now.

But then, as he threw himself into a chair by the desk, he recalled what Ino had said. Logic didn’t play a single part in love. It wasn’t a game, and he certainly couldn’t control the movements of any of the people in play—himself less than anyone else! This was out of his hands, and he knew his position. He was being advanced on by the queen right now—his queen—and he could he could hear the words echoing in his ears, “Check mate.”

He shuddered. How was he supposed to talk to her about Chojuro when he couldn’t even remember a single word of what he had said to the man. Amongst all the feelings Ino had let him spill out and explained, he barely remembered a thing. All he remembered was the kindness and the warmth the man had radiated. That and the desire he’d had for her to suddenly appear at his side every time he blinked to make it all easier, and the comfort he’d felt knowing that he’d hear her voice today.

Now he didn’t just get to hear her voice; he got to see her face. Surely that was a good thing—a win in every sense of the word. So why was he hiding? Why was he worrying about stumbling over his words like this?

Shikamaru let his head fall on the table with a loud bang, and hissed in pain at his own stupidity as he sat back up.

Get a grip…

Ino called something up to him him, her tone a perfect mix of frustration and glee, but the words she said didn’t even begin to register in Shikamaru’s mind. He felt powerless to the way his heart was pumping out of his chest, and how every blink of his eyes brought him closer to opening them and seeing her again. How was he supposed to keep a straight face talking to her? Before she even walked in he knew he was going to do something stupid—something embarrassing. Until he’d met this woman, and caught himself up in her life through kind words and perfect smiles, he’d always settled in this glum little hole inside himself, and while he certainly hadn’t been happy there, it was still a shock to find himself outside that hole.

He felt exposed, and so brilliantly out in the open.

Shikamaru almost choked on his own saliva when he heard the bell ring. 

There were some pleasant murmurs from below, a few words at most, before he the tapping of feet against stairs began. He dropped his head and grabbed a pencil, twirling as though he was planning to use it somehow. The footsteps, all too soon, came to a stop, and as his tapped the pencil nervously against his palm he heard a great sigh sound behind him.

“Hey.”

Her voice, undistorted by a telephone, sent a shiver across his shoulders and Shikamaru couldn’t help but smile. One syllable shot a relaxing sensation right through his body like nothing he’d ever felt, and he found himself sheepishly turning his head. She stood before him with her hands stuffed firmly in the back pockets of her jeans, kicking at the floor nervously, and instantly he felt his anxieties settle at the sight of her own.

“Hi.”

More than anything, Shikamaru wanted to close that distance and engulf her in his arms, capture her lips with his own. He wanted to point out every perfect detail of her face, and try explain to her the warmth it summoned in his chest, or how the meek smile she was giving him made the rest of the world disappear. 

There was so much to say, too much he wanted to tell her, to such an extent that all he could get out was: “You look nice.” It wasn’t a lie—she did—but he wanted to punch himself. Nice didn’t even begin to cover it, after all. Especially not when you compared her stunning curves to the dirt on every inch of his grubby uniform.

He looked down at himself and registered the missing button—the button that’d torn off thanks to her—and wondered how on earth they’d got here. They’d yo-yoed their way to this point, in and out of each others arms for a month, and Shikamaru had no idea how he’d got so lucky by doing so little. It was almost embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as his compliment had been weak.

Nice, he thought to himself. You’re all I want to look at for the rest of my life.

Thankfully Temari’s smile grew as a subtle blush tinted her ears, and the butterflies in Shikamaru’s stomach settled as he watched her body soften at his voice. “What’re you doing over there?” she asked, mischievously.

One step towards him sent Shikamaru reeling. “I’m, um,” he stammered, his eyes falling down to his pencil. He felt so unlike himself in this moment, hating how flustered he was beyond belief, and hoped it would dissipate quickly. Whilst he was in this state, not a single excuse was coming to him—no lies or quips to explain himself even slightly—and Shikamaru found himself chuckling with no idea how to proceed. It seemed easiest to say nothing at all, but with her right there and so much running through his brain, that option couldn’t have seemed further from impossible if he tried.

When he looked up at her she was much closer than she had been before, looming over him with eyes that were as expectant as they were narrow, as unconvinced as they were beautiful. He pouted in order to contain his chuckles and shook his head in resignation. “I’m not going anything useful,” he admitted with his lip between his teeth. “Honestly, I was hiding.”

“From me?”

He nodded. “Yep.”

“Wimp.”

The most embarrassing snort escaped him as he rose from the chair, sitting up on the table in a desperate attempt to gain the higher ground. “Correct,” he told her as she edged closer. Her fingers wrapped around the top of the chair and she looked at him expectantly, leaning forward slightly. “What’s the matter with you?” he chuckled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Temari shook her head in disbelief at the oblivious idiot before her, a soft but worried smile overriding the frustration behind her eyes. “You didn’t call me, Shikamaru.”

“And you didn’t call me at the weekend,” he shot back. “So, shall we call it even?”

“Fucking hell.” She pursed her lips. “I think I preferred you a minute ago when you were cowering in your chair. Can we go back to that?”

A victorious smirk spread across Shikamaru’s face as he watched contempt settle into her expression, and he linked his hands in his lap to stop them flying to her waist, pulling her close. For a moment he almost told her that if she wanted to go back to that she’s need to leave. After all, it was her comforting presence which had caused the change in his demeanour the first place, but despite the confidence she amplified within him, he wasn’t capable of saying so. Instead when he opened his mouth to speak he simply said, “Chojuro’s a nice man.”

She didn’t look surprised, but much to his dismay she stepped backwards, and began to trace her fingertips along the cabinets when she reached the other side of the room. “You liked him, then?”

“I did.”

“And you think he’ll help? You trust him?”

“I do.”

“But?”

Shikamaru’s head drooped. “Who says there’s a ‘but’?”

“It’s obvious,” she told him. “Did something go badly?”

He lifted his feet onto the fair before him and rested his elbows on his knees. Slouching, he began to chew slightly on his thumbnail. “No, it went fine—it went great—but…” A piece of hair fell from his ponytail as he trailed off and shrouded his right eye slightly, but he didn’t think to fix it, too focused on the way Temari had drawn to a halt, staring at him.

Given his new slouchy position, she found it much harder not to storm towards him, throw aside the chair and occupy that space between his legs, but she settled on staring—an action he returned, much to her pleasure.

The way he looked at her, whatever emotion raged through those deep brown eyes, never faced to ignite something in her. Whether that was a rampaging thought in her mind, a heat in the depths of her stomach, or some other ravenous feeling ready to eat her up, Temari found it all equally impossible ignore.

Right now, as if to torture her, it felt like every feeling hit her at once. The top button of his collar, bust and missing, left both shadows of his collarbone and Adam’s apple in plain sight. There came that fire, creeping through her every nerve. The beauty of his tired doe-eyes, and the solemn smile that laced his lips—so subtle she worried it might disappear—showed her every emotions without a single word.

He was good at that, she decided: communicating without words. Or maybe she’d just grown good at reading him over the last month or so. But either way, when the silence fell around them for a moment she she looked into his eyes she could hear exactly what they were saying through the deafening quiet. Above it all, even about the sadness, all she seemed to see was gratefulness; gratefulness and admiration, with a touch of something that felt a little too terrifying to name…

She cleared her throat, worried that her perceptions might be failing her, and tapped anxiously on the counter. “‘But’ what, Shikamaru?”

“But,” Shikamaru sighed, his voice somehow lighter than she’d ever heard before, “he isn’t you.”

Temari’s shoulders fell slightly, her stomach turning as she tried to decide how she could possibly rationalise this with him another time. She wasn’t sure she could bare to have the conversation about why she couldn’t take him in yet again, and forced a smile as she crossed her arms across her chest. “I can’t be that figure for you anymore,” she told him in a far shakier voice than she would’ve liked. “You know I can’t.”

“You can't,” he agreed, “and I don’t want you to be.”

She frowned. “Then why say—”

“Tem, you’ve got to remember that you’ve helped me so much—saved me, even.” Shikamaru’s eyes glistened over, and her heart skipped a beat. “Me switching from you to Chojuro isn’t like you switching from patient to patient.”

Silently, Temari nodded. Her eyebrows furrowed as she stepped closer.

“And I don’t want to hear your usual shit,” he insisted, and although it didn’t ease her desire to run to him and wrap her in his arms, she was thankful for the chuckle in his voice. “I don’t need to hear about feeling better and being better, and how they are or aren’t the same thing, to know that you’ve helped me more than you will ever know.” Shikamaru bit down on his lip. “This morning, on the bus, I thought about when we saw Kurenai.”

Temari felt her nostrils contort as she pinched her lip between her teeth.

“I wasn’t upset at all—I didn’t feel guilty, either—it just made me feel proud, and it made me want to go back.”

Her whole body softened, but a burning started in her waterline.

“You did that for me, Tem. You’ve changed me—even Ino told me earlier that she’s noticed it.” So, honestly, when I was sat in Chojuro’s office, all I wanted to was open my eyes and be talking to you,” he told her. “Not because I wanted you to be sat in his chair, just because moving on from you is…” One hand raked through his hair, settling on the back of his neck, and Temari could feel a most dull ache in her chest. “It’s really hard upheaving something you know with someone you care about.”

In the faintest breath, nearly impossible to hear, Temari found herself whispering, “I care about you, too.”

“Not having you there felt weird,” he added, “it felt lonely.”

All of a sudden, talking to Ino felt like the most stupid thing he could’ve possibly done. It felt to Shikamaru like he’d become a different person. These words, as much as he meant them, sounded nothing like himself. The upheaval of every emotion he held for Temari had felt comforting before now, but feeling her eyes burrow into him it was entirely different. His bluntness had never left him feeling like he’d handled things well, but usually he was laying down facts. Laying down emotions made him feel strange—both stronger than every and impossibly pathetic all at once—and her silence was even more unbearable.

He almost begged her to speak, say anything just to prove to him that she’d heard him. Anything to fill the silence. Why couldn’t he enjoy it like she’d taught him?

“Shikamaru?”

As his hopes became reality and her voice sounded, his eyes slowly lifted to see her smiling as she moved closer. A familiar warmth circulated in his stomach as he feebly returned the expression.

“I’m here,” she mumbled when she finally reached him. “I’m always here.” Temari rested her hand on his knee shoulder and squeezed it gently. The fabric of his uniform was softer than she remembered beneath her fingertips. “And I know you’ll be happier now that someone can help you get better. Properly, this time, not like how I did.”

“Oh, I’m happy now,” he smiled. “Trust me, I’m happy.”

“You don’t sound it.”

Shikamaru chuckled. “When do I ever?”

Without hesitation, Temari began to laugh, and allowed her hand to snake round behind his neck. She felt his forearms come up tightly against her back, looped around her waist, and wrapped her other arm around him gently. Burying her face in the crook of his neck, she began to hold tighter, and grinned as she felt his shoulders shudder with what she assumed was a chuckle. 

There were a million words he wanted to say, and a million ways he could think to say them, but not a single one came out as he opened his mouth. A breath hitched in his throat as he held her tight against his body, and he pressed a soft kiss onto the side of her head. He wondered if maybe now would be the right time to explain to her how grateful he truly was, or ask her somewhere besides the park or chip-shop, but the tears lacing his waterline persuaded him to keep his mouth firmly shut.

Now wasn’t a time to speak. From the way she held him alone, to however small an extent, Shikamaru knew she must��ve understood. Not to mention he was too afraid to say it with eyes this red, too afraid she’d dismiss the rambles of a lonely little boy.

Buried in the collar of Shikamaru’s shirt, Temari felt as though nothing could ever pull her away. His palm sat perfectly against the small of her back, and his mouth rested against her hair such that she felt every warm breath he took, sending shivers down her spine each time. She felt a sudden droplet touch the top of her head, and she eased out of from her safe haven to see Shikamaru staring down at her, a wet line trailing down his cheek. He smiled, as if to tell her that it was okay—nothing was wrong—and placed a quick peck on her forehead. She couldn’t explain how she knew to believe him.

Temari’s eyes flickered shut as she felt her own eyes grow hot, stinging slightly. Today wasn’t the day to ask questions or invite him to any of the hundreds of places she wanted to experience with him. Today, a hug was all that was needed, and it couldn’t have been more appreciated. The two of them had learned to speak in silences. A simple kiss on his cheek said so much more than just the intended, “Thank you.”

Downstairs the bell sounded, a haunting jingle forcing them to slowly pull apart. Shikamaru quickly wiped his cheeks and chuckled. A faint pink hue tinged his nose slightly as he locked eyes with the beautiful woman before him.

Her eyelashes fluttered and she grabbed his hands to lace his fingers between her own. “Right,” she began, a friendly finality playing in the word, “Gaara wanted soil.”

Shikamaru sniffed as he let out a wheezy laugh. “I see: you didn’t come here for me, after all.”

“Of course not,” teased Temari. “No, I’m just a really good sister.”

He felt her fingers tighten around his knuckles, her nails digging into his skin, but he somehow felt nothing but comfort and calm. Without thinking he squeezed back, and held tight. As she dragged him off the table as though nothing had happened, Shikamaru felt the strangest fuzzy feeling enveloping him. She had another thing coming if she thought he was ever going to let go. If he wasn’t sure before, he was sure now. Right or wrong—reciprocated or not—he loved her, and with every step she lead him down it grew harder to keep that fact quiet.

That was until he saw who had caused the bell to ring.

Over by the register, Ino and Kankuro chatting aimlessly. Shikamaru could see the way Ino’s eyes drifted across the obvious muscles Kankuro’s tight shirt showed off. He rolled his eyes and turned to the woman beside him whose mouth was agape, stammering in disbelief. “I can’t believe him,” she whispered.

“I can’t believe her,” added Shikamaru, shaking his head as his friend’s eyes locked on his, not an ounce of embarrassment in them as her smile expanded. “They’re talking about us.”

“Of course. Not to mention my brother thinks she’s fit, so he’s probably embarrassing me with all his might.”

“I didn’t think you’d be the embarrassed sort.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, holding back a grin. “Kankuro is obviously an exception.” Temari grumbled and squeezed his hand one final time before letting it go and storming forward. “Oi!”

Kankuro turned his head and hauled the box of soil underneath his arm, his fiendish grin the only thing Shikamaru was able to focus on.

Temari barged his shoulder and folded her arms. “I was just about to get that. Can’t you let me do anything by myself?”

“Not when you forget your purse,” he chuckled, eyebrows raised. 

“I didn’t. I…” The blonde’s lips pursed together as she shook her head. “I know why you’re here, really.”

Shikamaru tried his best not to laugh from the distance he’d managed to keep between himself and the siblings, but Ino began to scurry closer, and he knew exactly what was coming. She grabbed his arm and dragged him closer, pushing him into a spot right beside Temari. It wasn’t dissimilar to the way she’d thrown him around the primary school playground in an attempt to get him to admit to childish crushes he most certainly didn’t have, and it hardly made him feel comfortable in this moment.

She positioned herself beside Kankuro, almost too close, and Shikamaru immediately understood her intentions. It was only slightly less childish than his mind had originally assumed it to be, and he sighed as he looked between the two women. He held out his hand, gesturing to one then the other. “Temari, Ino. Ino, Temari.”

Proud of herself, Ino grinned and held out her hand excitedly waiting for the other woman to shake it. Temari looked to Shikamaru as she extended her hand. “We met earlier,” she said gently. “Ino kindly told me you were hiding upstairs.”

Ino tugged her arm closer and pulled her into an excruciating hug. Shikamaru almost tore the two apart as the mortification set in, but before he could place his hands on their respective shoulders he caught a glimpse of their smiles.

The sense of relief that flew through Temari’s body was tremendous, and she locked eyes with Kankuro over the shoulder of the girl she hugged. Though his expression was far from what she wanted to see—a waggle of his eyebrows particularly out of place in this wholesome moment—Temari found it difficult to do anything but giggle. All of her brother’s nonsense assumptions really had been build on nothing, and it couldn’t have felt better. Here was this woman, this beautiful colleague of the man stood behind her, whose excitement to meet Temari had outweighed politeness to her age-old friend.

“Thank you,” Ino whispered in her ear. “He’s a different man thanks to you.”

Temari’s stomach twisted, and her eyes grew stingy. She hugged Ino tighter, oblivious to the eye rolls they received from Shikamaru. “My pleasure.”

Ino pulled away, grinning with an impressive set of perfect-white teeth. “Shikamaru talks about you constantly.”

“I don’t.”

“Choji does, too.”

“Not true,” groaned Shikamaru.

“I was starting to think I’d never get to meet you.”

Temari nodded, smirking as the man beside her squirmed. “Likewise.”

Ino reached out, grabbing her wrist and giving it a gentle tug. “Come with me,” she giggled. “I have to give you something to say thank you.”

“Oh no,” gushed Temari, blushing. “No, it’s honestly no trouble, Ino. I couldn’t—”

“White or pink?”

“Excuse me?”

“Lilies,” Ino smiled. “White or pink?”

Shikamaru couldn’t help but smile as he watched Ino drag her away, his hands bedding down deep inside his pockets. His friend was clearly in her element, and while he could see Temari’s surprise he had to agree that she deserved a reward for putting up with him for as long as she had. If a bunch of lilies was a step towards making it up to her then Shikamaru wasn’t going to get in Ino’s way.

He made a mental note when he saw her reaching for the yellow lilies ones, and chuckled.

“Shikamaru?”

A stiffness spread across his shoulders as Kankuro said his name, and without Temari beside him to protect him—because who was he kidding, that’s exactly what she was doing—it was hard to force a smile to the guy. “Kankuro,” he greeted as calmly and politely as he could muster. 

Kankuro’s face contorted in the most confusing way, his eyebrows finally settling into a furrowed position after dancing up and down a few times. Carefully, he switched holding the soil under his arm to his left and wiped his palm on the dusty black trousers he wore. His hand extended towards Shikamaru sharply, as though he wasn’t even sure he wanted to do it, and he cleared his throat. “No hard feelings?” he asked, a hint of nervousness lacing his tone.

With one raised eyebrow, Shikamaru cautiously took his hand, squeezing tightly as he shook it. He was expecting a sadistic crushing of every joint in his hand—that maybe even after avoiding the carpenter’s shop he’d still lose his right hand—but instead he watched Kankuro’s face form an expectant smile.

He’d hoped that eventually Kankuro might smile him, and as it played out it felt somewhat surreal. There was no arrogant undertone, no malicious intent obviously playing in his eyes, just a hint of hope covering his whole face, and Shikamaru found it impossible not to nod along.

“No hard feelings,” he agreed, a smirk playing on his lips. “Though honestly, man, I can’t say I ever had any.”

Kankuro shrugged. “Do you not want a truce, kid?”

“I do. I’m just questioning whether or not you’re motivated by fear.”

“Fear of what?” scoffed Kankuro. “You?”

Shikamaru chuckled, nodding toward . “Of her, obviously,” he mumbled. “Who the fuck else?”

Across the room, a bunch of yellow lilies nestled in her arms, Temari felt herself start to grin with amazement as she saw her brother break out into a proper laugh. His shoulders shuddered as he bent over slightly, and turned to her with the biggest grin. Instantly she knew that he’d found someone else willing to tease her within an inch of her life, and she hated it. She hated it nearly as much as she loved it.

She made her way up to Kankuro with an expectant look, waiting for the two of them to explain themselves, but they simply grinned at her mischievously. Shikamaru’s eyes were tinted only slightly more apologetically than her brother’s, and she couldn’t help but bump his arm playfully as she stepped past him.

A chuckle erupted from him as Kankuro followed her, winking as he went. “Thank you for the soil, Miss Yamanaka,” said the brunette in a voice unrecognisably sweet. “And for my sister’s flowers. They’re stunning, much like yourself.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

There was a giggle, and Temari turned and shot a disgusted look at Shikamaru which he returned without a second thought. She rolled her eyes before raising her hand reluctantly in goodbye, struggling to continue the chuckles they’d begun when they first caught eyes. He wanted to storm up to her and demand she say, hold her close and refuse to let her go.

But he was too unpractised in love for such acts, and too in his own head as Ino had rightly said. He simply raised his hand in return and smiled apologetically.

I love you, he thought as he watched her back away. He hoped that she knew; he prayed that she knew.

“I’ll see you soon,” she told him, certain and strong.

Such a tone erupted nothing but excitement within him, and all for a sudden he felt his self-control slip completely.

“Tem, wait!”

He saw her falter as Kankuro pushed past her to hold the door open, and her eyes wandered out the window. Never before had he been this desperate to read someone’s mind, and he almost cursed Kankuro when he tapped her on the shoulder.

“Get on with it,” he heard him mumble.

Shikamaru’s chest contracted as Temari cleared her throat. She rustled the flowers in her arms and tucked a stand of hair behind her ear. It seemed like the perfect time to ask her, surrounded by floral scents and smiles of their friends. He cleared his throat to fill the unbearable silence he’d created, and couldn’t help wondering if he had misunderstood everything that had brought them to this point. That look in her eye usually seemed to spell out how she wanted to look at him forever suddenly disappeared, and was replaced by a confusing worry unlike anything he’d seen.

If she understood what he was about to ask, and it rendered her this anxious, he wasn’t sure he was able to put her through it. Imagine the pain when she said no—the pain of realising all of this had just been some stupid boyish fantasy he’d invented after experiencing her kindness a couple of times.

His eyes flickered back to Ino, who looked hopeful, and sighed desperately.

He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t risk her saying no.

“I’ll call you about it,” he said finally, his blushing face suddenly itching to get escape the situation he’d cornered himself into. “It’s not important.”

As his stomach sank, he watched as she smiled her beautifully calm smile despite his stupidity. “Okay,” she told him, as though maybe it was.

Once they’d said a final goodbye, and that same old nervous promise to call lingered on their breath, Shikamaru stayed put in the centre the shop floor. Even when Ino came up behind him and slapped him playfully on the back, he couldn’t bring himself to move an inch.

“If you don’t ask her out, I will,” she sighed.

“I can’t interrupt her life like that, can I?”

“Stop being a martyr, Shikamaru.” Ino sighed and draped her arm across his shoulders. “She’s stunning and she fancies you. Stop asking questions.”

“But what if she loses her—”

“Just be selfish, you idiot—let it be about you!”

Shikamaru watched as she jumped into Kankuro’s van across the street, and his heart leaps when she looked his way. One more time, he smiled and waved, hopeful as ever.

“But it’s all about her, Ino,” he muttered. “I can't stop myself worshiping that woman, and it's killing me.”

Ino groaned behind him. “Then why haven't you told her that?"

Temari waved back. She even mouthed a dramatic thank you, a grin plastered across her lips.

"I want to," he sighed, his voice ringing with desperate disbelief, "but I can never get the words out."

[notquitejiraiya]

When CHESS is done can you do one shots or a sequel about it? Can we see the sand sibs meet his parents?

Do people actually want this?? I could do a few one shots, but I didn’t think people would be up for this! Let me know if you would, I guess, and what you’d like to see if I did do this 🥰

Thank you for your ask, anon! ♥️

[notquitejiraiya]

Chess [29] - {ShikaTema AU}

A long one for you today. Over 5k. I did this instead of my calculus coursework so I hope it’s to everyones taste. Once again, trying to keep it light, and I hope you’re all safe and happy :)

Enjoy!

[READ/COMMENT ON Ao3]

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“What about Chōjūrō?”

“Gaara, please,” Temari groaned, sipping yet another gin as she buried herself into the sofa. She looked over the back of it to her brother, over-stirring his second cup of tea of the evening—as he always did. “He doesn’t need Chōjūrō.”

“He can speak for himself, I think, dear sister.” Gaara turned and frowned slightly. “Do you take sugar in your coffee?”

Shikamaru, from his spot on the rug, shook his head. “And black, please, mate.”

Temari rolled her eyes. “Chōjūrō is no more qualified than me.”

“Exactly.” He stepped over to the pair and leaned down to pass Shikamaru his mug, who nodded a simple thank you. “I thought that might be a good thing.”

“I’m not sure Shikamaru wants to be talking about this at half-twelve in the morning,” she sighed. “I certainly don’t.”

Gaara plopped himself down beside her, cuddling his cup of tea close. “As I said previously, I’m sure he can speak for himself.”

The perfect speed and timing at which the two turned to look at him almost made Shikamaru feel uncomfortable. He felt like he was in a sitcom or something, and wondered if there was some way he could get the show to proceed without him having to say his next line. But suddenly he caught sight of the intent behind their eyes—it wasn’t some kind of persecution or intervention. This was just two, weird members of the same family, who knew each other so well that it was weird to be on the outside, not knowing the intent of every word they said. He didn’t know who they were talking about, but he could easily assume what he did, and thus it didn’t take long to put two and two together to get:

“He’s trying to help, Tem,” said Shikamaru. He shrugged his shoulders and blew gently across the rim of his mug. “Who’s Chōjūrō?”

Temari’s eyes rolled. “He graduated just before me—he’s friends with some of Gaara’s friends,” she told him, begrudgingly. “But Gaara’s just trying to—”

“Help, as your boyfriend rightly said.”

“You know it’s not like that Gaara.”

He’d heard her say it plenty of times—hell, even he had said the same when faced with the terminology—but this was the first time it stung as the words sunk in. Granted, she didn’t look entirely convinced by herself, and Gaara merely smiled and took a drink, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard to hear. He was here, at her house, sat with her brother who had just effectively just walked in on something that he would say, in his position, probably looked like a relationship. Hearing that it wasn’t, even though deep down he already knew, hit hard.

Then again, here he was sat on the floor. He could’ve taken the spot on the sofa next to her that was free when he’d pottered downstairs, but he thought against it despite the hug he wanted to encase her in. He’d seen the slightest hint of disappointment in her eyes when he’d sat down, but now he realised: he’d made his bed, and he had to lie in it.

“Like that or not,” Gaara continued, “I was only wondering. Shikamaru, what about my sister do you like?”

Shikamaru raised his eyebrows. “Um…”

“As a professional, I mean. As what she is supposed to be.”

Temari gave him a swift whack to the back of the head, and Gaara chuckled as his tea spilt into his lap. The pair of them started to giggle together, and Shikamaru started to smile along.

It was difficult, at this point, to distinguish what about Temari had made him like her in the first place. Without a doubt, he did like her—this evening had, in fact, established that quite heavily—but the line between therapist and whatever she was to him now had blurred so long ago, he could barely recall. Now, when he looked at her, he could think only of the qualities that he could only assume had made this ‘love’ feeling surface itself, and it was safe to say he didn’t really want those qualities to carry over into the next person who helped him with his mind.

“I don’t know, to be honest.”

The blonde snapped her head to look at him and frowned. “Incorrect answer, Nara.”

Shikamaru chuckled. “Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t think.”

“Think harder.”

He had to purse his lips to keep a laugh spitting out.

“She doesn’t take herself too seriously,” he started, ignoring the affronted expression that covered her face, “and she makes people feel like they’re talking to a friend not a doctor.”

Gaara rolled his eyes. “That’ll be cause she’s not a doctor.”

“I’m closer than you’ll ever be, so shut up.”

Shikamaru shook his head. “She knows her stuff,” he continued, “and she caters to everyone specifically. She saw I was more comfortable talking if it wasn’t all I was doing, so she let me play chess as we talked.” He took a sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. “But most of all she makes you feel like you’re not weird or crazy. She doesn’t make you feel broken, but she just makes you feel like you’re able, with her help, to sort everything out.”

He looked at Temari with a soft smile, and within a moment her eyes started glazing over. It hadn’t crossed his mind even once, that someone in her position might not often hear the good they do summed up like that. He knew from his own experience that as a client he was more likely to express the bad than the good in those plush little rooms. Sure, he assumed the odd little thank you was exchanged, but many people—like himself—weren’t always grateful for the help they were receiving.

Immediately he felt guilty, and wanted to return to that first day he’d met her. On her first day, after she’d told him everyone had already treated her like she was awful, he’d strolled in and done the same. Today, as he looked back at that, he felt like a completely different man. That rude little git who stepped into her office that day had been given a good seeing to, and his attitude hadn’t been trained by medication or techniques for calming—it had been righted by being treated like a person by another who believed he was good. All thanks to her.

Temari rubbed her eyes a little and took another swig of her drink as she whispered a gentle, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. You treated me like any other person, not just some sick puppy,” he explained aloud, staring deep into her eyes. “Tem, for that, I—”

There was a click, and a shuffling of feet on the doormat, and instantly Shikamaru shut up. He stared at the siblings, who—unbeknownst to them—looked fear-stricken. Temari’s eyes didn’t move from Shikamaru’s for a second as she struggled to form words, and Gaara scrambled to his feet. 

“You guys in?” called Kankuro’s voice, raspy and harsh—or was that Shikamaru’s imagination getting the better of him?

Need to go. Right now.

Temari was still just staring as Shikamaru silently hopped up and grabbed his coat from Gaara’s loose grip.

“You guys? Gaara?”

Oh, fuck, he knows.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs was undeniable. Undeniable, and utterly horrible.

“Kankuro?” said Gaara, calmly, as he scurried over to the top of the stairs. “Weren’t you meant to be staying at Suki’s tonight?” He turned to Shikamaru and mouthed a very animated, “Hide!”

Shikamaru’s mouth fell agape. How was he supposed to hide in a room where the only furniture was in the very centre of the room? Was he supposed to worm his lanky arse into a kitchen cupboard or something?

It didn’t help that Temari was still just staring at him, fumbling for words. He frowned at her helpless eyes, and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, as he took up the least obvious of the few terrible hiding spots available, behind the arm of the sofa furthest from the door. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shut up,” she finally got out, hissing. “He’ll hear you.”

“For fuck’s sake, Tem, my boots are downstairs. He’ll have seen them.”

She took a breath out so shaky he worried she might faint.

This was it. This was the day he died.

“Gaara, is Tem in?”

From the spot he’d picked out, Shikamaru could see Gaara trying his best to block off the top of the stairs, his face gloomy. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “She still doesn’t want to talk to you, brother. Why are you not with your girlfriend?”

Kankuro let out a huff. “Stop with the ‘brother’ thing, okay? I want to talk to her. Please.”

“Kankuro, why are you—”

He was interrupted by his older brother bursting into tears, and Shikamaru watched as Gaara fell back at the weight of his brother overwhelming his small frame. Temari turned her head to look at the pair of them, and Shikamaru saw her shoulders soften. In the instant it took her to turn and show him her saddened eyes, he mouthed a firm, ‘Go.’ She nodded, and ran to her brothers, engulfing Kankuro in a massive hug from the side.

Shikamaru quickly peered over, to see Gaara’s eyes darting from him to the stairs. “Come on,” said the redhead, “come have a cup of tea.”

“I don’t want tea,” Kankuro whined into his brothers shoulder, must like a little boy.

“Well, our sister appears to have drunk us dry of alcohol for now, so—”

Kankuro pulled away from the group hug to look at Temari, and within an instant Shikamaru was hidden behind the sofa once more. He commando crawled around the front as he heard footsteps approach, and tried his best to hold his breath.

“You don’t seem that drunk,” he heard Kankuro say through sniffs. 

“I’m not,” Temari chuckled. “We just didn’t have much left. All we have is whisky and gin. You like neither.”

“I want both.’

Wow, Shikamaru thought to himself, we’ve all been there, man.

After a moment of silence, Temari cut through with a cough and a calm, loving tone. “Why don’t you and Gaara go sit down in your room, and I’ll bring you some stuff down and we can talk about whatever’s made you upset. Ok?”

“Okay,” Shikamaru heard him say, feebly. “I love you, Tem.”

“I love you, too. Now go cuddle up in bed.” There were footsteps. “Go sit with him,” she added, presumably to Gaara, before more footsteps joined in, eventually fading into silence.

Shikamaru let out a mighty sigh and rolled over onto his back. “That was close,” he whispered.

She didn’t reply. 

“I thought you two weren’t getting along?”

“Yeah, well, he’s my brother,” she sighed, leaning over the back of the sofa and looking down at him. “He needs us.”

He nodded, smiling, and swiftly got to his feet, brushing the lint from his jeans. “I guess I better scoot.”

“Scoot doesn’t suit you.”

He chuckled quietly. “It doesn’t, does it?”

Temari looked to her feet before looking up at him with a sigh. She didn’t look upset, or downtrodden—she didn’t even look desperate like she had earlier in the night. Frankly, she just looked strange, confused, and he had no clue why.

“I’m off then,” he whispered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket and backing slowly towards the stairs. “I’ll go quietly, don’t worry.”

She nodded and shuffled towards the bottles still littering the kitchen side. “He interrupted what you were saying.”

“What?”

“Shh, he hears almost everything down there!”

Shikamaru cleared his throat quietly, blushing slightly. “Sorry,” he whispered. “But interrupted what?”

“You were talking about what I did for you,” she mumbled, measuring out a shot of whisky. “Kankuro coming in kind of cut off what you were saying. What were you going to say to me?”

For a while he froze. Or, at least, it felt like a while. In reality it was likely no longer than ten seconds, but ten seconds of silence while the woman you love stares at you with sad, concerned eyes feels like it goes on forever—especially when there’s no answer to her question. What Shikamaru wanted to do was walk up to her, pull her into the most honest kiss, and tell her how much he cared. He wanted to tell her not to worry—he wouldn’t leave he’d just wait upstairs for her and they could talk to Kankuro eventually.

But he didn’t. Shikamaru scoffed and rubbed the back of his neck. He shook his head and muttered, “Nah, it’s nothing—I’ll tell you another time.” He raised his eyebrows. “Some other time your psychotic brother won’t hear me?”

Reluctantly, the corners of Temari’s mouth pulled up into a smile. “He’s not psychotic.”

“Your calm brother told me to hide and go…”

“True.” She chuckled, and poured the last of the gin into her half-finished glass. “I’ll call you, if you’d like.”

Shikamaru smiled warmly, and tip-toed down the stairs, leaving her alone with her gin, his unfinished coffee, and an almost full bottle of whisky. With her glass and the bottle in hand, she stepped closer to the window and stared outside into the gloomy night. All of a sudden, out from the front door he scampered, huddled in his hoodless coat and his boots in one hand.

“Oh, you utter moron…”

Her eyes followed the figure who’s flailed about in the wind as he weaved between puddles up the pathway onto the pavement. The streetlights would go out soon, and he’d be stuck walking home in the rain and the darkness. She wished she’d asked him to stay—to hide upstairs until early in the morning when he could make his escape. She didn’t want him to be alone out there, letting his socks get soggy to save her arse.

She waited to see if he’d turn and look up at her window—if he’d remember which window on this terrace of identical houses she’d be stood at, if any. She didn’t expect him to, she expected him to power through the rain or stop to throw on his boots. But, out of nowhere, he turned and started to walk backwards, a dumb smirk on his lips so clear she could see it from so far away. He raised his hand in recognition, and waited for her to return the gesture before huddling back into himself and continuing on.

“Tem?” she heard Kankuro call out. “You coming?”

Shikamaru shot back one final glance from halfway up the road and stuck up his middle finger to the sky.

“Yeah!” she shouted back, holding back a giggle. “Just coming!”

~~~

Shikamaru sighed as he hopped up the final kerb of his trek to work, exhaling a large cloud of smoke into the face of a stranger with a wave of apology as he hurried on. Desperate to avoid his gaze, he whipped his vibrating phone out of his coat pocket and read the notification:

Gaara: Chōjūrō just texted me. He said he spoke to you on the phone a moment ago?

He sighed. Of course, he would rather the message not be from Gaara, but rather his sister. After all it had been Temari he had been waiting for a call from since he’d got home the other night. Over twenty-four hours and nothing from her was weird to say the least, but he was trying his best not to worry about the situation too much. After all, Gaara was texting him, unworried by it all.

Not that that really made him feel any better about not speaking to her.

—> He did. Booked in for Wed

He immediately felt like he sounded ungrateful, and added:

—> Seems a nice bloke. Cheers for helping me find him

Gaara: My pleasure, I appreciate you accepting the offer. I’m sure he will help you. See you shortly!

Shikamaru shoved the phone into his pocket, well aware he was currently two minutes late for his shift, and chuckled at the tone of Gaara’s texts. It was like texting his mother—not frustrating, just very awkward.

He missed texting Temari, and the way that after a single text she would often get fed up and just call him cause the waiting around for replies just ‘took too long’. He was grateful for what Gaara had done for him in giving him a number to call, but there was no denying that he was disappointed.

“Shikamaru!”

His head shot up to see Chōji at the far end of the high street, waving his arms like a lunatic to attract attention. Shikamaru watched him jog—pathetically, but he wasn’t really one to judge—to meet him as he drew to a halt outside the Yamanaka Flower Shop.

“Oh, Christ, what’re you doing here?”

“My ma ordered some stuff, so I’m here to grab it.” Chōji smirked. “How goes things?”

Shikamaru shrugged, taking a long drag as he rolled his eyes. “‘Things’ go fine.”

“Come on—details, man.”

Throwing open the door, over the bell chiming loudly, Shikamaru called out, “Can’t work Wednesday morning, Ino.”

She popped up from the corner of the store. “What?”

He didn’t answer; just took one final puff and put out the butt on the threshold before shuffling in.  

Ino lunged out from behind the counter and reached to brush the ash that lingered on the wood to the floor. “If I see you do that one more time, Shikamaru,” Ino hissed, “I’m going to kill you.”

Shikamaru watched her prod the three dark spots on the wood and shook his head, before effortlessly turning back to his best friend with a shrug. “I’ve got no details to give, mate.”

“Details on what?” Ino let the door fall shut with a frown. The bell sounded again. “What’ve you done?”

Chōji perched himself on the staircase, eyes following his friend’s ascent. “Liar,” he called up, as Shikamaru disappeared upstairs.

“Details on what, Chōji?”

The pair, torturously, heard Shikamaru’s nonchalant chuckle echo down the stairs. “I’ve got nothing,” he told them. “Literally—I’ve spoken more to her brother than I have her since I last saw you.”

Chōji nearly fell from the second step as Shikamaru peered his usual emotionless eyes round the top of the staircase. “Her brother?”

He nodded, and in tandem the other two snapped their necks towards the carpenter’s across the street. He watched as Ino dashed to the window, peering around a bundle of bright white chrysanthemums, and chuckled at the pair squinting as they clearly tried to spot Kankuro. Despite her efforts, however, Ino didn’t seem to spot him and kept staring, face almost flush against the glass as she asked: “Doesn’t he want you dead?”

“The other one,” he answered, plodding down the stairs, creased up apron in hand.

“But why?”

Shikamaru scrunched up his nose a little at Chōji and shrugged. “He recommended someone else for me to see. Just exchanging numbers and stuff.”

“But you’re seeing his sister, aren’t you?”

“He obviously means a therapist, Chōji,” Ino groaned, turning back to face the two of them for a moment before facing the window once more, like a mirror. “Does my hair look stupid? My dad said that two braids looks cute, but do you not think I look about ten with them?”

Chōji didn’t seem to be listening, but stood up, out of Shikamaru’s way and sidestepped closer to Ino. “Has he told you he went to see Kurenai Sarutobi yet?”

“Mr Sarutobi’s wife?” Ino spun around, her plaits whipping Chōji in the neck. “No, you didn’t. No way—that’s where you were on Saturday?”

Shikamaru hopped off the final step, throwing his apron on, and frowned. “Chōji, man, shut it.”

The blonde followed him, a shadow on his way to the service counter. “Why did you do that?”

“It was Temari’s idea.”

“Oh, of course it was.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, backing away behind the counter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ino shrugged, twirling one of her braids around her index finger. “It just means that you just go along with anything,” she said. “You do everything your therapist girlfriend tells you to—”

It was safe to say having this conversation was becoming more than just a little tiresome at this point. “She’s not my therapist anymore,” he groaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Nor is she my girlfriend.”

Chōji chuckled from the bottom of the stairs, shuffling towards the two of them. “Oh, shut up. You still do whatever she says.”

“I don’t.”

“You do,” Ino insisted. She hopped up onto the counter, sitting crossed legged between the two men. “She’s got right into your head, Shikamaru; you’re just too tangled up inside the whole thing that you can’t see it.”

“What happened to you cheering them on?”

“I am, Chōji, but isn’t that a little far? Going to her house?”

Chōji shrugged and held out his hands, clearly at a loss. “You should’ve seen him the other night—the man was basically flying.”

“Well, do you see him ‘flying’ now? Look at him.”

She pointed to him, and Shikamaru suddenly scrutinised: her finger looming closer to his face and two pairs of eyes firmly fixed on his expression as it shifted from uncaring to agitated. He shook his head as he looked away from Ino’s condescending stare to Chōji’s dark, apologetic eyes. He shrugged a little and Shikamaru couldn’t stop letting out a bitter spit of laugher, directing his gaze back to Ino.

“Finished yet, madam?”

Ino smirked and shook her head. “Looking firmly on the ground to me, Chōji,” she said triumphantly. “He’s the same asshole as always.”

“Well,” Chōji argued, resting his elbows on the desk, “she obviously hasn’t called him yet, so—”

“So, what?” Ino nudged Shikamaru with a mischievous grin. “When did you last speak to her?”

Shikamaru checked his watch and slumped behind the desk, looking up at the looming woman as he felt around for the plastic measuring pot he’d left there last week. “After I left hers.”

The blonde’s jaw dropped, and she had to contain her giggles. “You went in?”

He looked away. “Have you moved the measuring pot again, Ino?”

“You slept with her?”

A snort came from across the desk, and Shikamaru peered over at Chōji, finally grabbing a handful of muddy plastic.

“Again, you mean,” he jeered.

Shikamaru let his forehead fall, bashing against the wood.  “Chōji! Seriously, man? Why?”

Ino’s eyes widened. “You mean this wasn’t the first…” The laugh in her voice was unbearable. “Shikamaru what is wrong with you?”

He wanted to push her right off that counter as he got to his feet. “Oh, would you just give it a rest, Ino?”

Clearly her hearing was very selective. “Have you considered she might be using you for sex?”

He rolled his eyes, stepped back, and reached into one of the two large tubs behind him to begin scooping four litres soil into a cardboard carton. “She is not using me for sex.”

“’Course not—he’s not nearly good enough at it for that,” Chōji grinned.

Shikamaru’s shoulders started to tremble as he held back laughter. “Would you just fuck off?” he scoffed.

The other man tried his best to keep a straight face cocked his head to one side. “Ino,” he tried calmly, “you seriously should’ve seen them Saturday night. They get on like a house on—”

Ino sighed and fiddled with the laces of her Chucks mindlessly. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “It’s all well and good joking about, but I just don’t want him to be dealt another shitty hand. That’s all.”

Chōji nudged, forcing her to break out into a smile once more. “Don’t say sorry to me,” he chuckled. “If you can’t be positive, how will he—” He nodded towards Shikamaru, who was wrestling with the cardboard lid. “—ever be positive, eh?”

Ino shook her head at the jet black baby hairs falling out the back of his ponytail. “I don’t want to see my boys get hurt.”

Shikamaru tutted, craning his neck to look her in the eye. “We’re not, and never have been, your boys.”

“You totally are,” she smirked.

He turned and scribbled something on top of the now full carton of soil, placing it carefully on the service counter. “She is a good person,” he said calmly. “Far better than me, than anyone—trust me.”

Chōji smiled. “We get it, man, you don’t have to prove—”

“Choj,” he gulped, twiddling his pen between his fingertips as a small smile formed on his lips. “I think I might love her.”

The bell rang, and while Ino would usually have hopped to attention, desperate to appease each and every customer, neither her or Chōji were quite able to process the words that had just fallen from their friend’s lips. Never had he said anything with such sincerity that held as much weight as that. She didn’t even budge from her unprofessional position on the desk when the customer edged closer.

“Hi, Shikamaru,” he said, smiling fondly, and immediately she recognised the voice.

A young man, surely about the same age as them, moved into her view, tapping his fingers on the wood. His hair burned red—the sort of impossibly bright box-dye red Ino had begged her mother for in her early teenage years but never received—and his eyes were perfectly lined with eyeliner, with far more talent than she herself possessed. As her eyes drifted from his upwards, she momentarily forgot about what her friend had just said.

Now that only one of his friends were staring at him like he’d committed a crime most unforgivable, Shikamaru tried to ignore the remaining look Chōji was giving him and pushed the soil carton across to Gaara. “There you go, man,” he smiled warmly, replicating what he saw as best he could. “Four litres, right?”

“Perfect, thank you very much.” Gaara watched as Shikamaru poked and prodded the cash register. “Her phone is dead, by the way. If you wondered about the radio silence.”

Shikamaru frowned at the till. “Dead?”

Gaara nodded. “They’ve gone down to see our godfather for a few nights. She left charger behind by accident.”

“Baki?” he asked, turning his head slightly, and watching for another nod to answer him. It did. “It’s cool, man. Most people get homesick when things go tits up.”

He nodded once more. “I suppose we do.”

Shikamaru rubbed the back of his neck, and bit down on his lip. “Can I ask…” He paused. “Why aren’t you with them?”

“I had classes I couldn’t miss.” He chuckled, lifting the carton with a grunt. “And, besides, I wanted my soil.”

As Chōji finally registered the presence of another human being, and pleasantly said hello—the barman was recognised as soon as he spoke, and Gaara greeted him with only warmth—Shikamaru fished a five pound note from the pocket of his jeans, tucking it neatly into the till. “On the house.”

“Oh, no,” Gaara sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Shikamaru, I can’t let you—”

“Listen, you’ve been good to me when you didn’t have to even be civil,” he shrugged, dusting crumbs of dirt from his chest. “Just take the soil, man. Please?”

As he took a small step back, Gaara mouthed a solemn, “Thank you.” He turned, simply to be polite, to his left and caught sight of the name badge on Ino’s apron before her eyes, and shot her a smile. “My name is Gaara—I believed we spoke on the phone last week.”

She looked totally taken aback, but slowly formed a smile and nodded. “We did. It’s good to put an, um…a face to the voice, I guess.”

Gaara nodded, looking between the three friends fondly. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon, all of you. I’ll definitely be back—both to the pub and here,” he chuckled.

“Sure, man,” Chōji said with a wave. “See you around.”

“Yeah,” Ino managed, eyes following him, her neck twisting until she heard the door opening, the bell chiming.

Shikamaru rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh before letting his elbows fall to the desk.

“Shikamaru?”

He rose with a start, staring into Gaara’s bright eyes at the door. “Yeah?”

“Please don’t be disheartened,” he urged, adjusting the box in his arms. “She wants to talk to you, I’m sure, but she can’t risk texting you on Kankuro’s ph—”

Shikamaru smiled, giving him a firm nod and letting his elbows back down into his slouch. “Mate, it’s okay—don’t worry.”

Gaara nodded, and with one final expression of gratitude gracing his lips, the bell sounded, and he was gone. This, of course, meant Shikamaru was thrown back to the two wolves that stared him down from their positions either side of him.

“So…” Chōji started, clearly unable to comprehend the escalation of the morning so far.

“Yes, that was her brother,” Shikamaru said, filled with hope that would keep them silent. “Shut up.”

But they just kept staring at him, and it was difficult to decide who’s eyes were less intimidating. Though, he had to admit, something had changed in Ino’s expression in the time Gaara had been here—the concern had subsided, and something else had come to the forefront which made her look a hundred times more confused. Chōji, however, still had that terrified happiness in his face—the little smirk and mischievous tint in the rosiness of his cheeks—which told Shikamaru he hadn’t forgotten.

His was the stare to worry about. Happier, yes, but his intent was clear, and he wasn’t ready to talk about this yet; whether that was seriously or in jest. More than anything, he wished he hadn’t mentioned that terrible l-word at all.

“Chōji,” he tried, desperate to pry him away from the question that lingered in his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that—you’ve met him before.”

Ino raised her finger, and the both of them looked at her instantly. “Why didn’t he have eyebrows?”

Shikamaru scoffed, frowning as she turned to Chōji. “What?”

“I said, why didn’t he have eyebrows?” She spun towards him, turning dangling her legs off the edge of the counter, swinging them like a child. 

“Ino, really?

She frowned. “Did you not see them?”

“Are we really going to ignore what Shikamaru said before?” Chōji laughed, extending a dumbfounded arm in exasperation. “We’re complaining about a guy not having eyebrows?”

“It’s not a complaint,” she said, far too enthusiastically, “he’s actually a really pretty guy…”

Shikamaru threw his head back with a sigh with an antagonising mixture of gratitude and irritation. “Ino, please stop…”

The blonde jumped off the edge of the counter, leaping a lot further than Shikamaru expected and forcing him to back into the pots of soil behind him. “But has he shaved them off? Burned them off?” She hopped closer and pointed at her own. “Look at mine, Shikamaru. Look!”

He cleared his throat as he ducked his head further away from her. “Very nice.”

“I know,” she sneered, edging slightly closer, “but that isn’t what I mean. I shave the tails of mine off to draw them better, do you see?”

“I see.” He didn’t see.

“But he literally had nothing—not even drawn on.” She stepped back, crossed her arms, and looked from him to Chōji. “Why?”

Shikamaru skirted round to the other side of the desk, making a beeline for the other side of the room. “I don’t know, Ino. I didn’t even notice until you said so.” He grabbed the bannister at the foot of the stairs and raised his eyebrows—now painfully aware of their existence for the first time in his life. “What exactly do you want me to do about it? Text him for you?”

She nodded, almost without control.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not doing that,” he scoffed.

“What? Why offer then?”

Chōji coughed, and Shikamaru noticed he was still giving him that same shocked look. “Reckon he was joking, don’t you, Ino?”

“Obviously,” he sighed, biting his lip.

As he weaved his fingertips into his pocket, Shikamaru considered asking Chōji outside to chat but he knew that no matter what, he’d be interrupted by Ino. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, nor that she wasn’t his friend also—he did and she was. But it was his longest, firmest friend who’s eyes held such worry, and it was his word that Shikamaru felt would be most genuine. It was his opinion that he wanted to hear.

But for some reason, the embarrassment he felt for blurting it out so casually was still gripping him—controlling him—and he had nothing but an overwhelming desire to get away from the both of them. Ino would still be here for the next three hours, but she was already far too focused on the hot topic of Gaara’s facial features to be too much of an annoyance. Chōji however, had somewhere to be, and he didn’t have to stay.

“Get Chōji his order, would you?” he asked Ino, finally tearing his smokes from his pocket. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“You just had one,” she huffed. “You’ve barely even been here ten minutes!”

“What’re you gonna do?” Shikamaru chuckled, balancing a cigarette between his lips. “Fire me?”

He didn’t listen to her grumble, only to the bell chiming as he opened and closed the door. His eyes drifted across the road to a shop empty of customers and definitely empty of Kankuro. As he sat down on the bench outside and felt the heat of his lighter flash across his chin, he wished he could ring Temari and brag about how much Gaara seemed to like him, for the simple reason he knew it would annoy her.

“Lay it on thick, why don’t you?” he could just hear her saying. Oh, he would, most definitely, but after that came the stark contrast of Kankuro. Shikamaru couldn’t quite pin what it was the man loathed so much about him, after all they knew nothing about each other barring what Temari must’ve said. He wondered what might have upset such a brutal character as Kankuro, but more than that he hoped he was alright—that Temari was, too. As he stared over at the empty shop he realised, for the first time, there was nothing he was going to be able to do to make the man like him. She liked him, that’s what mattered most, and Gaara even respected him, too.

“Two out of three ain’t bad,” he muttered to himself, slouching, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still yearn for two to become three.

[notquitejiraiya]

‘Chess’ ~ Masterlist

‘New to the practice, Temari has trained and studied for years to help people in the treatment of mental illnesses. Sharp and high-achieving, she's sure she can handle anyone who steps through those doors and lands on the couch in her office. That is, until one difficult young man - who will only answer her questions under one, strange condition - tests her patience, her knowledge, and her self-restraint all at once.’

(2018 - 2021 )

Complete on AO3! I recommend reading there for a more polished/edited story 🥰

♥ ON AO3

♥ Chapter 1 - Shikamaru Nara

♥ Chapter 2 - Checkmate

♥ Chapter 3 - The Lasagne

♥ Chapter 4 - The Pub

♥ Chapter 5 - The Bartender’s Friend

♥ Chapter 6 - Re-Wiring

♥ Chapter 7 - His File

♥ Chapter 8 - The Guy From the Carpenter

♥ Chapter 9 - The Mediator

♥ Chapter 10 - Share The Smoke

♥ Chapter 11 - The Cool Brother

♥ Chapter 12 - Deep Rooted

♥ Chapter 13 - Sacrificial Knight

♥ Chapter 14 - Relief

♥ Chapter 15 - The All Night Café

♥ Chapter 16 - Forgetful

♥ Chapter 17 - Tuesday

♥ Chapter 18 - The Foreign Couch

♥ Chapter 19 - Spiky

♥ Chapter 20 - Yesterday

♥ Chapter 21 - Idiots

♥ Chapter 22 - Fish And Chips

♥ Chapter 23 - The Office Desk

♥ Chapter 24 - Like Father, Like Son

♥ Chapter 25 - The Housing Estate

♥ Chapter 26 - Maybe

♥ Chapter 27 - Spontaneity

♥ Chapter 28 - Trouserless

♥ Chapter 29 - Escape and Endure

♥ Chapter 30 - Turn Around

[notquitejiraiya]

Chess [7] - {ShikaTema AU}

BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE HERE IS A WARNING: 

This chapter contains reference to (though not in detail and there never will there be further detail than what is given here) attempted suicide by overdose.

I said that this story would get deeper, and genuinely mention harsh topics that people may be sensitive to, and this one is the first that does this. This is one of the only few that will directly confront suicide, but others will mention it as it is integral to the character arc and backstory. I’m sorry if this is distressing for you, and if it is 1) I’m very sorry, and 2) I suggest you maybe steer clear from this chapter.

I’m sorry to spring this upon everyone, but given you read the first chapter if you’re here, I’m sure you understand. Still, I thought it inappropriate not to properly address the subject at the beginning here. I know I personally would’ve wanted to know beforehand if I were the reader, especially a few years ago.

I love you all, and I hope you all love yourselves, too! 

CHAPTER SEVEN

She took some solace in the thought she’d instilled a little hope into the troubled soul that sat before her, and while she had no idea the root of the evil that he dwelled upon, she wholeheartedly believed that if they worked, they could do it; fix him. It didn’t matter who he was or where he’d come from, or even whether he’d gone out of his way to piss her off two weeks ago, he was a human being, and a kind one at that. Irritating or not, that was all she needed to know how important this was.

For a moment she’d let her mind wander as she stared at him, agape, but as she felt slightly rougher skin absentmindedly trace across the back of her hand, she remembered that she’d never actually let go. And now, embarrassed as she was to have onto the comforting gesture far too long, it wasn’t nearly as intense a feeling as the conflicting she felt when it dawned on her that the thumb that was mindlessly caressing her hand, hand broken free from her grip to do so. One of his hands, colder and bonier than hers, sat atop Temari’s own, resting. Why exactly this change had come she was unsure, but she wasn’t nearly as bothered about that as she should’ve been.

“So,” she started, changing the heavy subject slightly, “you said you wanted to be a teacher, but since you’re wearing wacky shirts and selling flowers all day, so…” She cleared her throat, covering her mouth with her one spare hand, anxious to move the other from him. “I guess what I’m asking is why you didn’t go for it and become one.”

Shikamaru, with his eyes firmly shut, ran his thumb across her knuckles, tucked away in his own little world for a moment. He let out a soft chuckle. “It isn’t your turn to ask questions yet.”

A shiver flew across her shoulders. It was so haunting to watch him; so captivating yet so numbing. He instilled in Temari a feeling she’d never known before, and with everything in her she couldn’t decide if she actually liked him or not. It certainly wasn’t like her friends, for starters—while they could infuriate her, as he often did in such a short space of time, they never made her want to punch them in the face; something he had caused her to feel a couple of times now.

But Shikamaru? She went through minute long periods of loathing him, followed immediately by periods of pure fascination, then from wanting to smack him upside the head to wanting to throw her arms around him and not let go.

She felt sorry for so many of her clients—it was a given whens he knew they’d all suffered, one way or another—but Shikamaru made her feel different. It wasn’t sorry, as such, with him. More than anything, Temari empathised with him, even though she knew so little of him and his life.

Although she’d had her brothers for company always, she, too, had few friends growing up. She’d felt small and as though she was the only person she could trust on many an occasion. Temari couldn’t relate to many of the people who stepped into that room, but what she knew of him, she could personally understand, and it was enough for her to feel some sort of connection to him.

In him she somewhat saw her little brother, Gaara, and all of his struggles, and at first she’d wondered if that’s how it was: a brotherly feeling. But then, all she had to do was think of Kankuro—yes, she hated him and went through periods of wanting to punch him, or even going ahead and doing it, but she loved him for the sake of it. She was in no way bound to Shikamaru, and yet she felt stronger for him after two hours of conversation than she felt for her brothers. No, no—not stronger. That wasn’t right. Just differently. So freaking differently.

No, he shone—he stuck out in a very different way. She felt herself drawn to him in a foreign way, into his eyes and the smile that flashed like a shooting star every once in a while. It was so unprofessional, and in the moment it hit her she knew what she ought to have done: got up and told him to go and see somebody else—the man in the office next door or, if that was still too close to her, another practice…

But she couldn’t. her hand was too glued to his, too happily sat resting there, and her warmth too balanced by his cooling touch.

No, there was no chance in hell she was letting him go. She had been told, been trained, to set aside her emotions so they wouldn’t interfere, and that was just something she would have to do if it meant he got to stay. But she wouldn’t, not under any circumstances, give up the greatest joy of her career so far, the most intriguing and important patient to her, if she could set aside those emotions.

Yeah, fuck professionalism, she concluded, staring straight ahead at the man. If I can help him feel better, that’s better than nothing, and it’s better than shovelling him off onto someone else to make him more unhappy.

“It isn’t my turn,” she agreed after a long pause. “But, humour me. I’m interested.”

Finally, his eyes fluttered open, settling on the bundle of hands in his lap. As he forced himself to move them, so slowly, it felt to him like ripping a plaster that had glued to his skin. “I didn’t ‘go for it’ because I never got the qualifications, that’s all.”

“Why not?” She retracted her hand and, flushing red, fumbled behind her for her notepad. “You’re clearly really smart. Surely you passed  everything. Surely you could’ve got into university.” She rolled her eyes with a slight smile. “Or did you not try?”

He chuckled. “I did,  in the end, enough. I passed. I was ready to go—I did go—it’s just the actual degree bit never came to pass, you know.”

“What? Why not?”

“I did go to uni,” he sighed. “I went for a week and a half, and then, since it was September and it was my birthday, and I went back home to see my parents and Choji. They wanted me to.”

Temari nodded, tapping her fingers on her notepad and finally hoisting it into her lap. “Okay.”

“When I got there and had been welcomed and all that jazz, I went out for a smoke and my Dad followed me.” His gaze lifted and set on Temari, finally. As cold and dark as he felt in his head at that moment, the determination in her eyes made it feel a tiny bit brighter. “Anyway, he hates that I smoke—even though my mum’s told me he used to before I was born, and frequently has the odd one nowadays—so, despite his insane hypocrisy, he always looms when I do, knowing it’ll make me finish my cigarette as quick as possible.

“You see, usually he’ll say something about my smoking—Nara’s are the definition passive aggressive when we’re pissed off,” he chuckled, raising his eyebrows, but he didn’t seem to find his own comment funny. “Yeah, I was just sat on the doorstep and he stood in front of me, staring at the sky, and I knew he was going to give me a talk. Like, a proper talk.

“He said, ‘You know, Shikamaru, for six generations, Nara men have joined the forces. In some way, shape or form, they’ve contributed—they’ve helped. But you,’ he told me. ‘You’re sitting there doing calculations. Quite the shift, eh? Who’d have thought it?’ Then, as expected, he told me I should quit smoking, but it didn’t matter. I could see his point; the damage was done.” Shikamaru sighed and rubbed his eyes, desperately trying to stop the itching behind them; not allowing Temari to see how he truly felt as the memory surfaced. “I’d let him down. By wanting to be an academic, I’d done the opposite of what I was suppose to do. I’d stopped this inter-generational pattern, and even somewhere in me that was upsetting. I couldn’t imagine how it felt to him.”

“So you just gave up?”

He nodded. “I gave up. Or gave in, at least. I quit smoking and enlisted, like I thought I should’ve, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stomach it, so after a week I ran; I came home, bought packet upon packet of cigarettes, and cried my eyes out.” His Adam’s apple shifted as he gulped. “So I started working in the flower shop, so I didn’t feel like a waster.”

Temari was blown away by the way he spoke. His voice, while so calm and consistent for the most part, was a complete mismatch for the look on his face. She could tell how desperately the man was trying to hide his feelings; disappointment, shame or whatever destructive feelings they were, but she could see his eyes. Rubbing them didn’t change anything; it didn’t take away the soul behind them that was hungry for something better—desperate not to feel like he did in that moment.

“Don’t be embarrassed for being scared,” she mumbled, fully aware the pressure of her notepad brought to some people and placing it down. “Everyone gets scared.”

“I wasn’t scared I just didn’t want to hurt anyone. I didn’t want to hurt, or even save. I don’t want to be anyone’s hero, you know? All I wanted to do was help out kids; especially kids like I was, ones who struggle to connect with things.” Shikamaru tapped his knee before, at long last, letting his knight hop over the pawns in front of it. “But enlisting…it just made me sad.”

Temari reached out to the chess board and made her next move. “You should just go back and get your degree Shikamaru; nobody’s stopping you, and it’s your choice.”

“I know that,” he sighed. “I mean, what’s especially shit is that Dad didn’t actually care. He was impressed that was at uni, he just had a dumb way of showing it. And so now I know I’ve thrown that away because I couldn’t properly interpret one conversation.” A loud groan erupted from him. “Fat lot of good an IQ over two-hundred is, eh?”

Her eyes widened at the number, but she tried her best to stay on topic. “You might’ve known if—“

“If Id talked to my mum. Yeah I know.” His shoulders drooped. “But I’m not good at that. I’d rather just stick with the way things are.”

“But things can get better if they change.”

He didn’t respond, instead taking to his feet. Sluggishly he fumbled over towards the one window her office provided, his hands lifelessly hanging in the pockets of his jeans. The shuffling of his boots across the floor was driving Temari mad—how many damn pairs of boots did he get through a year walking like that?—but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

From behind, with light flooding from the windows and creating his silhouette, he looked like something from a movie scene. Not the fancy man walks into the bar kind of movie scene—Temari wasn’t that deluded by his mere presence, yet—more the, see a shadowy figure sipping whiskey in the corner up against the wall kind of movie scene. Despite the way she’d seen him break his veil of cool, it would be a lie to call it a rouse. Shikamaru certainly was cool, and he seemed to realise that to some vague extent, too.

But he didn’t. Even further than that, he didn’t care. As he dragged his feet across the wood, his eyes set on the sky like a predator to it’s prey. Envy rushed through his veins and sent tingles up the back of his neck, feeding his brain with exactly what it didn’t need. However, as much as he tried to stop it, he couldn’t stop staring up, and as his shoulder collided with the wall and his leaning began, he couldn’t help but think aloud.

“You know, I was telling Choji the other day about how great it would be...”

“To be a teacher?”

“No,” he batted back, blunt and simple. “How great it would be to be a cloud. Clouds don’t have responsibilities. Clouds just float along, going with it all, and then they just get to disappear into the atmosphere, forgotten.”

Temari found herself growing hot, and her palms becoming clammy again.“You don’t want to disappear and be forgotten, Shikamaru. Trust me.”

“Choji said something similar. You two would get on.” He paused for a moment, and started to run his fingers along the window. “Actually, I’m not sure. You might think he was a pain. He kinda is. He’s not as us. He’s with it and his heart is so big, yeah, but he can just ramble on and on…”

“Shikamaru—“

“Anyway, if I were a cloud, I wouldn’t have to work, or even have a brain.” He chuckled. “And nobody would care what I was doing of if I was aliv—“

“How on earth do you do that?” Her voice was growing angry, and she hauled herself to her feet, adjusting her blouse.

“Do what?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know, buddy,” she snapped. “You talk constantly, and almost passionately, too, but you don’t care. You don’t put any effort into it, and yet you thwart what I’m saying.”

His eyes stayed glued to the blue sky outside. “I don’t ‘not care’ I just...well it’s hardly riveting conversation, is it?”

He didn’t have to turn. The gentle tap of her boots across the floor were warning enough that she was sneaking up behind him. It almost made him turn, but where he was leaning provided something stable. He needed stability, not shaky legs.

“Shikamaru, what you’re saying is worrying.” Temari’s voice was low and calm. “Come on, please sit down again.”

He stayed put. “I’m alright thanks. We can talk like this.”

“Stop being difficult.”

He chuckled. “I’m not. You’re just not handling it properly.”

“I want to punch you in the face, you know that?” She had laugh to stop herself balling her fists. “I want to help you more than I want to do that, but gee, you can be an ass.”

“You barely know me, yet.”

She blushed. “And I’m almost grateful for that. Come on, please. Sit down and stop saying you want to float away and disappear from everyone’s lives.”

“Tell me something,” he muttered, out of the blue. “What did my file say?”

Temari froze. “I’m sorry?”

“I want to know what she put in there.” His shoulders fell as he began itching the back of his neck. “I want to know if she had the stomach to say it.”

“To say what?”

Shikamaru shook his head at first, but began nodding slowly, continuing as if she didn’t exist, which of course drove her insane. “Nah, she won’t have. She hates to admit it to anyone.”

“I’m sorry, Shikamaru,” Temari interrupted with a heavy groan. “I’m not following you.”

“Word for word, what does it say? Look for me.”

She frowned.

Finally he looked her in the eye, false smile plastered and eyebrows raised expectantly. It was as if he was trying, once again, to rile her up. “Please,” he sighed.

“I don’t need to look, it’s not extensive.” Temari crossed her arms, unamused but undoubtedly interested. “It just said ‘highly depressed and will not take medication’.”

He nodded slowly. “As expected.”

“What?”

In the exact way Temari hated most, the young man turn around and blanked her again, picking mindlessly at the chipped paint on he windowsill. “I wanna go on the record that I have no problem with taking medication. I’m just not allowed. She won’t say it to any of you guys, but I’m not…trusted with it anymore.”

Temari knew instantly what was coming next, and she didn’t want to ask. Despite her job and her desire to help him, she couldn’t help but feel unprepared to tackle this. So she simply let her silence do the talking and fell back into her chair, knees so weak with the shakes she could barely stand.

“Three times.” His eyes squeezed shut. “Three times...”

“I’m so—“

“No, I wasn’t allowed to be sorry about your mother. You’re not allowed to apologise for something that’s my fault.”

“But it isn’t!” she insisted, thoroughly upset and trying her best to hold back. “Don’t say that. You know it isn’t, really.”

“Three times. It’s just the fact that the first failed go wasn’t enough to stop me trying the exact same thing a second time.” She could see him pulling at his own hair. “And then a third. Somewhere along the lines my will just gave in, to the point that my natural instinct that’s whole purpose is to make me want to live fucked me over.” Shikamaru bit down on his lip and finally turned to face her again, it quivering between his teeth before he spoke. “I was meant to die, Temari. For twenty seconds body almost let me go.”

Temari couldn’t help how she felt in that moment. It took every ounce of her being not to let the flood gates open and rush down her cheeks, and each syllable she tried to voice got hitched in her throat as she struggled for the right ones. But more than the sadness, more than the confusion, she felt disappointed in herself. It wasn’t just how unprepared she was for this moment, but the fact she felt uncomfortable—something that she knew was so unnecessary. She’d felt the same with Gaara back then, knowing he was suffering but herself feeling discomfort both in knowing that, and in thinking about such ordeals.

It was her job, she knew that, and she had to pull herself together. But she couldn’t lie, she knew that one thing right now.

Before she even opened her mouth, she stood up and edged closer to him , trying her best to ignore the whirlwind in her head, and the storm surely inside of his. Finally, once again, she reached out to him.

Carefully she threaded her fingers underneath his, drawing him away from the peeling pain and holding his hand tightly. “I’m going to be really honest with you, because I haven’t had to do this for real before, and I’m scared. Not of you,” she clarified, “don’t ever think I mean of you. I’m just scared of being insensitive, accidentally.”

Shikamaru turned to her, eyes brimming with tears and forced a smile. “I get it. No big deal.”

“It is, Shikamaru,” she forced out, though her throat was almost closed as she fought back tears.

“So I’m your ‘suicide guinea pig’?”

Temari felt her knees go weak and her stomach churn, and she squeezed his hand so tight. “No, don’t say that. Please, please don’t freaking say that.”

“Why? I don’t care that it’s true. I’m your first patient like this, right?”

Weakly, she nodded. This was the first time she’d felt so insignificant in this room; and the first time she’d start to discover  the real extent of his pain. “You’re so casual about it, I don’t...I just don’t...”

“I can imagine it’s unsettling,” he whimpered. “Listen, I don’t mean to sound so blunt and I don’t mean to sound so careless. It’s just hard to think about it in any way other than from a distance. I try to talk about it as if it wasn’t me. It makes me feel like it isn’t my problem.” His hand squeezed hers back for a second. “But I can’t do that here, and bluntly is the only way I can do it.”

“Well, I don’t want to dwell on it, either,” she began. “The action itself needn’t be mentioned in this room more than in passing, okay? What we need to talk about it why you felt the desire or the need to and uncover what that is that caused that. Because finding the root of it all and tackling it will help you get better. But before that, I need to know two things. Just quick.”

Silently he nodded.

“I assume you, um...”

He coughed, uncomfortable. “Overdosed, yeah.”

Her gut wrenched. “And when...”

“Eighteen, twenty-one, twenty-two.”

Temari had to stop herself pulling him into her arms, but she pushed it down and tried to be professional. “There could be many things going on, but I’ve got two main ideas. It might be that your brain produces less serotonin than average and so your emotions are constantly unbalanced. That would need to be combatted in such ways as with external joys, and methods to cope with…” She took a deep breath. “With those overwhelming feelings of depression, given that you aren’t going to be able to have antidepressants.

“However, it could always be the case that you aren’t ‘wired’, as you said, in a certain way, but rather you’ve habitually got into a destructive thinking pattern over time.” Temari regretfully let go of his hand and rested her palm on his back, looking up into his dark eyes. “Either way, Shikamaru, I won’t let you feel that way again.”

“You definitely know what you’re talking about, don’t you?” He smiled, genuinely this time, and Temari felt warmth flutter through her body. “But nobody else spotted any destructive ways of thinking.”

“Have faith, Shikamaru,” she mumbled. “Just have faith in me, okay?”

[notquitejiraiya]

Poll #3

Drafts for the next chapter of each of the following are in the works so give me a heads up on what you all fancy first (though both will come soon):

Chess [#7]

Letters to Neji [#18]

Let me know however you want!

[[ I’m also up for requests, so just drop me an ask. However I must stress that I struggle writing about ships I’m not particularly behind or find a bit weird, and CharacterxReader stuff because...well I can’t immerse myself into the characters and a story. Still, thank you!! :) ]]

[notquitejiraiya]

Heyo NQJ xD Im lovin Chess so much & I was wondering if you have many more people following since it got big. It must be a lot now XD keep up the gd work!

Hello, Anon! Thank you - always brightens my day to hear people are happy with Chess :) As for followers, not really. Way back in 2016 I hit 500, I think, and I currently have 679, so given the time frame I’ve not really excelled.

But thats cool with me, as long as those who do read, enjoy :) have a wonderful day!