Author's Note: Hi all! This is the first story I've submitted here, and I quite like it, but then, that's just me... anyway, read on and (hopefully) enjoy.
Disclaimer: All characters mentioned are copyright of M. Kishimoto
Ino slumped on the doorstep of her best friend's home, dejectedly watching the rain fall in small plops on the sidewalk in front of her. She was getting wet. Or rather, she was already soaked to the bone and was only prolonging her suffering. Ino growled. She felt, and probably looked, like a drowned rat. Her dress was beyond redemption, her mascara was dripping down her face making her eyes look like Dali's melting clocks, and one of her shoe heels had broken. Admittedly, they were cheap shoes that hurt her feet when she walked in them too much, but it was the cherry on top of an all round awful day.
It hadn't started out so bad, she recalled. She had been invited to her college friend Sakura's wedding a couple of weeks ago, and the day had finally arrived. Ino, ever the party girl, had been preparing for this for days. She had gone out and bought a new dress (soft violet silk with silver water lilies around the hem reminiscent of Japanese kimono designs), new shoes (el-cheapo ones for £13, but they were silver, and strappy, with a killer heel. Everything Ino looked for in a shoe), and got a haircut (short as it had been in high school, where it just brushed her shoulders, even though she'd been growing it and it had nearly reached her backside). She had even been exercising, as opposed to just dieting for months on end, in the vain hope that she would lose about 10 kilos in 9 days.
And then some kind of karmic retribution had come back to kick her in the neck, because her boyfriend of nearly 7 months had decided that now would be the ideal time to reveal that he was in fact gay, had always been gay, would always be gay, and was seeing his attractive (male) secretary behind her back. Ino had just been what he called 'an experiment', like his pet Chihuahua (apparently, he hated dogs), and his inner-city apartment (he hated both the city and flats). Well, after that… extremely baffling conversation (what kind of imbecile was this guy?!) Ino had been left dateless the very day before she needed a handsome, high-earning man to show off to her ex-classmates. There was no way she was going to pitch up alone to Sakura's wedding. She would never have lived it down. Sakura was marrying Sasuke (her high school heartthrob, whom Ino had held a – ahem – small flame for in her youth), and Ino, who was still hanging on to their petty childhood rivalry (old habits die hard) would not be upstaged. So she had gone to Shikamaru.
Nara Shikamaru, Akimichi Chouji, and her, Yamanaka Ino, had been best friends since infancy, but as Shikamaru happened to live closer to her than Chouji, and was a genius (200+ IQ, seriously), she had decided to go and beg for guidance from him. On her way there, with the clouds beginning to darken like some great portent of doom, she had realized that Shikamaru himself would be the ideal chaperone for this particular event. After all, he was young, attractive (if you looked past the lazy-ass attitude and convinced him to leave his hair down), and was earning nothing short of £135,000 per year (apparently, he spent his working hours playing video games on a beanbag in Nintendo's testing lounge). He was perfect, if only for the fact that he wouldn't expect post-torture (ahem, wedding) sex. Or even after-party snogging. She would go, show him off to Sakura, he would lounge around and complain, and then they would get a taxi and he would fall asleep in it while she criticized the entire affair.
Having come to a decision, Ino happily marched up to Shikamaru's small, unkempt (though location-wise incredibly desirable) house and climbed in through the dining room window, being fully aware of the fact that the door was locked, he didn't have a spare key, and he was not going to answer the door under any circumstances before half four in the afternoon. At that point, her watched had just struck eleven in the morning, so she had let go of her pride and pulled a bin over to stand on to reach the window.
She had found Shikamaru sprawled in the hallway, a packet of cigarettes lying scattered all around him and his cloud calendar positioned directly in front of his face. Sighing (it was going to be one of those days wasn't it?), she had picked up the cigarettes, moved the calendar back onto his desk, and then proceeded to open his laptop (state-of-the-art, lucky bastard) and check his emails. This had been amusing for about 7 minutes, before she realized that the emails from 'sandprincess' contained information she'd rather stay hidden from the light of day. Especially the one that was entitled 'valentine bash'. After shutting down the computer and, with a shudder, erasing certain images from her mind, she had gone into the kitchen, cleaned his stove, counters, chucked out whatever was sitting in his fridge, opened the computer back up and ordered some groceries online, after some deliberation thrown away his packet of cigarettes, taken out the trash, put on some washing, made the bed, stacked the DVD's, vacuumed the lounge, and sorted the bills, she had calmly poured herself a glass of water, and then proceeded to tip it over the inert figure of Shikamaru. Then, after waiting several minutes for him to stop swearing (this ceasing of profanities had, of course, been helped along by her – ahem – gentle nudges) Ino had told him of her woes and outlined her master plan. She had thought it was brilliant, he even had a suit he could wear (she had checked this around the same time she had been sorting the bills. One never knew where he may have hidden them). Shikamaru, on the other hand, had been less than impressed.
"Ino. I understand your… difficult situation. But I would rather cut off my own arm than go to such a troublesome wedding." He had said, scowling and patting his pockets for a hitherto forgotten cigarette.
"I threw them away, even the one in your sock so don't bother looking. And it's not going to be troublesome, it'll be fun! Everyone from high school will be there! Well, almost everyone. And I'm sure Sakura would've invited you anyway if she knew you still lived in London." Ino had replied sweetly.
"When did I bloody leave London? Never mind, I probably don't want to know what lies you've been telling people. And high school was troublesome, so it stands to reason that seeing the people who went there will be just as, if not more, troublesome. I barely liked any of them." He snapped back.
"Then this'll be your chance to make a new start! Unless… you're not doing anything tonight, are you?" she had asked, waggling her eyebrows and smirking.
Shikamaru's face, previously creased in a frown, had turned a delicate shade of pink.
"No, as a matter of fact, I don't have any plans for tonight." He had muttered, squirming under Ino's smug gaze. And then he grimaced. "Troublesome. Have you been going through my emails again? Because there's no reason for you to assume anything unless you have been."
Ino gasped and put her hand to her heart, the very picture of affronted innocence. "Read your emails? Me!? Never!" she had giggled. "Anyway, if you've got nothing planned, please please please take me to Sakura's wedding. Pleeeeeeeeeeease, Shika! I'll never ask you for anything ever again!" she had begged.
"I'd get that in writing if I didn't know you'd just sneak back in here and burn it or something." He had sighed. "Fine, it's too much effort to argue with you. I'm not wearing a tie, though. Those things are too troublesome."
Giggling insanely, Ino had jumped up and bounced over to him where he lay slumped over the coffee table (which was littered with little desk calendars of clouds, several video games, and a cushion embroidered with little smiling clouds) and given him a kiss on the cheek.
"Brilliant! I'll be here at seven, so don't be late! Oh, and leave your hair out, for once!" she had instructed happily, bouncing out the door and leaving Shikamaru grouching with his forehead pressed against June, Clouds Reflected on the Thames.
By that point it had been quarter past one, leaving Ino with only five or so hours to get ready. So she had showered, dried her hair, put on some very risqué underwear (who doesn't feel sexier in black lace rather than white cotton, I ask you?), made herself a steak (knowing Sakura, everything would be sugar-free and vegetarian), shimmied into her dress, and expertly (and simultaneously) done her hair and makeup. Glancing outside and ascertaining that it was in fact pouring, she had called a cab, strapped up her shoes, and cut a length of silver gauze to shawl size (being an up-and-coming fashion designer had its perks). She was ready. After swishing her dress a little while she waited, Ino had descended to her chariot from her boudoir (dashed to the cab from her bedroom) and directed the non-English speaking man to Shikamaru's house.
And that's when karma (from some previous life, because the most terrible thing she'd done in this one was accidentally kill Chouji's cat then replace it with a new, identical one without telling him) had really decided to be a bitch and knife Ino in the back. She had hopped out of the cab, clutching her umbrella like an idiot, and dashed up to Shikamaru's door. She had checked her watched, she was precisely three minutes early, and there was no possible way Shikamaru was in any way not ready. So she had rung the doorbell. Then waited for a couple of minutes before insistently ringing it again. And again. And again, before finally losing her temper and leaning her whole weight on the bell while the cab driver hooted behind her. Ino spent, all in all, half an hour waiting for Shikamaru to open that door. When he didn't come, and she had less than 15 minutes to get to the other side of London, Ino had given up and stormed back to the cab. After an extremely tense drive speeding through the underbelly of the city listening to Bollywood fm, Ino had finally arrived at the church, 5 minutes late and growling obscenities. As she had fumbled the right amount of change from her bra (where else was she meant to put it?) the cabby had turned to her and said (in an accent so thick she could barely understand him), "If I were you, madam, I would dump that useless boyfriend faster than a speeding bullet." Ino had only glowered at him, handed him his change, and stumbled up the cathedral steps. Of course, this resulted in her twisted her foot, snapping her heel, and tottering into the service like a drunkard. A bloody brilliant impression to make on the people who had the power to make or break your adolescent life. After staggering to her seat (in between Uzumaki Hinata, née Hyuuga, and Inuzuka Kiba, with a dog stuffed down his tux) Ino had proceeded to glower fiercely through the entire ceremony, even ignoring the personally written vows (I, Sakura, do hereby declare – insert 8 minutes of mindless sappy stuff – for ever and ever! – insert hysterical squeal –. "Hn. I'm glad we're getting married.") in favor of thinking up ever more elaborate tortures for her errant chaperone. Aside from that, the reception went off without a hitch. Sakura and Sasuke completely disappeared after sharing one lust laden glance, Jiraiya (Ino couldn't work out how he was related to anybody) felt her up, and Naruto (who was there for the sole reason that Hinata was invited, because Sakura found him annoying, and Sasuke was worried he might try to give him a talk, man to man), with his usual tact and social grace, asked her why she didn't have a date. Loudly. So loudly, in fact, that Ino wouldn't have been surprised if people in Iceland hadn't heard him. And to her horror (and probably his as well, come to think of it), Ino had burst into tears. Hinata, lovely girl that she was, had taken Ino and sat her down, giving her a champagne glass and telling Naruto to go and get a bottle of champagne (she was a smart girl, that Hinata), before asking her what was wrong. And so Ino's sorry story of idiotic gay boyfriends and even more idiotic best-friends-who-promised-they-would-take-you-to-the-wedding-then-knifed-you-in-the-back-the-bastards came out. Hinata had appropriately cooed and comforted while gesturing for Naruto to be absolutely silent, and plied her with more champagne and Kiba as an escort home.
He had been just as tipsy as she was, and they had lurched off into the rain, singing 'Oh Danny Boy' with accompaniment by the dog. That had ended, as had the sidewalk, and Kiba had promptly collapsed into the gutter. Giggling wildly, Ino had slumped down next to him and he had leaned over and snogged her exceptionally badly. His dog had run off somewhere at an earlier point (during the drunken make-out-in-the-gutter moment, probably) and Ino was just about to get up to go look for it when a car drew up beside her and the dog jumped out of it. Followed by an attractive woman who bore a slight resemblance to Kiba. It turned out to be his sister, who had been driving up and down looking for him. She had offered Ino a lift home, seeing as her younger brother had slightly molested her. Ino, in her befuddled state, had decided that Shikamaru was going to pay, and had directed Hana (as she learned was the woman's name) to his place.
And there she was. Slumped on his doorstep in a sodden, miserable heap, at half one in the morning. Ino sniffled. She had been there for one and a half bloody hours. In the rain, which was thankfully starting to slacken off. Ino cursed under her breath. She could've been home by now, tucked up in bed, watching the Star Wars movies in order, and drinking cocoa with marshmallows, but no. She had to be a stubborn, angry, slightly drunk (sobriety was beginning to wend it's way through her system) woman with vendetta! flashing in front of her eyes. She was miserable, and therefore Shikamaru would be also. She was going to make him pay. She was going to crush his soul under her heel so he begged for mercy. She wrung some water out of the hem of her dress. And he was going to fork out £215, she decided, to pay for this dress, and then buy her another one. A cab pulled up on the curb. Ino's head snapped up. Shikamaru and some blonde (blondes were idiots, present company and those genetically related to said company excluded) stepped out of the vehicle and up to the house. Ino tottered upright. "Nara Shikamaru!" she spat, slowly (her heel was broken, after all) walking towards them. The blonde's one eyebrow was arched upwards, and Shikamaru subtly tried to hide behind her.
"Ino, please don't hurt me." He said, surreptitiously moving the blonde to shield himself more fully.
"Hurt you? Hurt you? Hah, when have I ever hurt you, Shikama… ru?" Ino slurred, "Never! Not like how you hurt me! Tonight! I had to go to that wedding all – all… wossaword? Alone! An… and Kiba! S'terrible kisser. And now I'm… the thing… drunk! An' wet! An' very cold!"
"Ino, you're drunk. Why don't I call you a cab, and we'll discuss this when you're less…" Shikamaru paused, "Troublesomely deranged."
"Shika, is this going to take long?" the blonde drawled.
Ino looked up at her, slightly annoyed that she was taller. "Who're you?" she asked, her lower lip sticking out petulantly.
"Sabaku Temari." The blonde sneered.
"Charmed." Ino sneered back, before turning her attention back to the half-slouched, half-cowered (it would take to much effort to completely cower aware from Ino) Shikamaru.
"I do not care if you see other women, Shika – Shika… whatever." Ino proclaimed, jabbing a finger at his chest, "Bu' you have crossed the stripe! You can never ever ever stand me up for this… Terami ever again!" Ino paused, the corner of her mouth drooping sadly, "S'just mean."
Shikamaru sighed. "Troublesome… Ino –" he began, only to be cut off.
"Shush! I don' wanna hear it! Our friendship is… the thing… finished! We're over!" Ino declared, staggering slightly as her other heel began to give under the pressure.
"Ino, you can't just break up with me. It doesn't work like that." Shikamaru groaned, rolling his eyes.
Ino turned on her heel, stalking slowly out onto the street. "Jus' watch me!" she spat over her shoulder.
Before promptly collapsing unconscious onto the road.
"Maybe we should just leave her there."
"Troublesome."
End Notes: Well, there we are. Uh... about the title, Murphy's Law states that whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. I don't know about you, but a lot of things seem to go wrong for Ino. It seemed appropriate. If you didn't give up on the story half way through, and have actually decided that you like it, please leave a review by pressing the snazzy purple button in the right hand corner. If you didn't like it, I want to know why. Justify your dislike! Or... just go on your merry little way without giving any thought to feedback. It's what I would do...