Current mood:	creative
Current music:	Failing the Roarsch Test; Matthew Good Band
Entry tags:	naruto, shikamaru, temari

[Naruto] 'Semantics' Shikamaru/Temari
So today I randomly felt like writing Shikamaru/Temari. For no apparent reason.

Shikamaru, Temari and her brothers.


Semantics
Cephied Variable



Shikamaru blinked against the sunrise, ran the back of his hand across his brow and slowly pulled himself out of bed. His feet hit cold hardwood floor and he saw the following things: his chuunin vest, his pants, an empty bottle of sake and a large, purple obi he knew didn't belong to him, coiled like a snake around his kunai holster.

He took a deep breath and turned sharply to see Temari smirking up at him- unruly hair tussled, completely unashamed of her nakedness: "You sleep like you're not afraid of anything." she noted, adding, wryly, "And you snore."

Shikamaru sighed and buried his face in his hands, "Long distance relationships are a pain."

* * *

But Shikamaru was a good son despite everything. He did it all right- he took Temari home and let her have dinner with his parents. His mother tapped her chopsticks together anxiously throughout the entire meal and his father kept looking Temari over and giving his son fleeting glances of approval.

Temari was a polite as she could be. Hidden Sand hospitality wasn't exactly what one would call hospitable- she was gruff and open; blindingly blunt and honest, the way she would be with her brothers. His mother winced at the harsh tones of sarcasm and haughtiness in her voice, but Shikamaru knew that this was Temari's strange way of showing respect. She wouldn't have bothered to come if she hadn't cared.

On his part, Shikamaru put his chin in his palm and fantasized about being somewhere else.

Predictably, his mother hated her. She was too corase, too violent, too rude, too vain. Her hair was ill kempt, she didn't wear make-up, she flaunted her features like a harlot might and had no sense of common decency when it came to polite conversation. She was bloodthirsty and ruthless, not to mention the sister of the Kazekage, Shikamaru what are you thinking!? What if Konoha and Suna end up in another war, what will you do then?

She's too this, too that. too much like a...

His mother almost said: "too much like a man" but she caught herself and said: "too much like you." instead.

"She'll never marry you." she scoffed finally, as if that were the final subject on the matter.

Okay, fine. Shikamaru shrugged, I'm only seventeen.

* * *

One year and three months later, Temari rolled her head back and cracked each of her knuckles one by one before saying: "If you want to marry me, you'll have to ask my brothers first."

Shikamaru raised one eyebrow and looked at her critically, "Who said I wanted to marry you?"

"In Suna, a girl can't marry anyone unless the head male of her family says it's okay. My father's dead, so unless you get Gaara and Kankuro's approval, you're out of luck."

Shikamaru sighed long sufferingly and shook his head, "You really are the most irritating woman."

"And you're the most boring boy in this entire village. I'll bet you three scrolls and a kunai holster that Kankuro says no."

* * *

Actually, Kankuro laughed in his face and asked: "Are you fucking insane!?"

When Shikamaru just stared back and said: "I guess I am." Kankuro stopped laughing, blinked twice and sat down slowly.

"Wait, you mean you really want to marry my sister?"

"Don't make me say it again."

"Like, you.... really want to? It's voluntary and everything? You'd be willing to spend the rest of your life waking up to that every morning?"

Shikamaru didn't bother answering that one, figuring that his reply was self evident. Kankuro seemed to be lost in thought, however, pondering the heavy gravity of the situation. He looked very different with his facepaint off and his hood thrown back over his shoulders. His eyes were dark and muddy unlike the exotic, sea-green tones in his sibling's irises, but his sandy-brown hair, proud nose and arrogant smile were of the same dusty, aristocratic blood as Gaara and Temari. Very few shinobi had living parents, even fewer had siblings. Sometimes, Shikamaru thought Temari was lucky.

"Well..." finally, Kankuro took a deep breath and grinned sardonically, a slight twitch at the edge of his smile, "She's not much of a woman, but she's the best there is... and you're free to have her."

After a moment, he added: "Just don't grow a beard. She hates beards."

* * *

Gaara was an entirely different matter. Even without Shukaku, the young Kage was still a pacing brooding figure, cut imposingly in his tapered, black robes. He looked small without his gourd and young now that the shadows around his eyes had begun to fade. Far too young for the studious, serious expression on his pale face.

He walked the length of his office once and cradled his chin between his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully. Shikamaru's eyes followed him as he repeated this process three times.

"Do you love her?" he asked suddenly, setting his eerie, unblinking gaze on the leaf shinobi. Shikamaru was a little taken aback by the question and cycled through the many, many repsonses he could give to that question, most of them sarcastic and thus unusable.

Well, he could tolerate Temari. He had respect for her abilities, her intelligence... her body. She was a good match for him- what he lacked in strength, she made up for in brute force; what she lacked in patience, he made up for in tactfullness. They laughed together and fought together and sometimes just sat together not saying anything. The sex wasn't boring. She wasn't boring. His mother hated her.

Love was the reckless abandon by which many shinobi fell. It was the all-consuming, destructive way Naruto and Sakura chased after Sasuke; the way Rock Lee fell down and got up again no matter how many times people told him he was foolish. It was that annoying look Ino got in her eyes sometimes when talking about the new boy in her life and that thing his father always tried to explain to him, and failed.

Scientifically, love was defined as a chemical reaction that lasted exactly four and a half years. Why anyone would want to do anything out of love, Shikamaru was baffled. He wanted to marry Temari because she was a lot of things other women were not and he had to admit he was a little worried he would never find anyone like her ever again. She was unpredictable and uncomplicated and would never expect anything of him that she didn't expect from herself.

The semantics of it weren't important, Shikamaru knew what Gaara was asking. The Kazekage wasn't expecting a verbal essay and Shikamaru didn't feel like giving one. The only wise way to answer the question was to say: Yes.

So he said yes.

* * *

"You owe me some scrolls."

Temari was waiting for him on the edge of the village. She was laying with her legs crossed, one sun-darkened foot swinging to some imaginary tune as she watched the sun set across the flat desert horizon. She made a "hmph" noise in the back of her throat and he lay beside her, back sinking into the evening-cool sand.

There were no clouds in the desert, but there was the most beautiful night sky Shikamaru had seen in his life.

fin.



Word Count: 1224