For Starstruck2, written as a backup gift for the Nejiten community on Livejournal.
Title: Her Silken Veneer.
Word count: 3421.
Rating PG-13
Summary: Past lives and alternate universes can do funny things to your dress sense, but Neji's still arrogant and Tenten's still the odd girl out. At least she has a fancy dress to make up for it…
Author's Notes: I don't usually write NejiTen – I used to like it a lot, but some of the more mouthy and obnoxious fans kind of soured the pairing for me and I moved onto Team Gai ficcage instead. However, my Tenten muse was complaining that all I seem to do these days is let an Otonin poke out one of her eyes (see various stories of mine for proof) and I decided I should give her a break. Being asked to write a backup gift for a NejiTen gift exhange provided an outlet.
(I still prefer LeeTen Evil)
--
In a past life, she may have donned satin instead of homely cotton and felt the fabric slide with decadent seductiveness against skin that wasn't criss-crossed and silvered with scars. In a different incarnation of that spark which remained the same while the vessels changed, life was less about crossing swords and spilling blood than dancing a more genteel, but no less deadly dance while the crystal droplets on the fine chandelier above scattered the light and made it glisten.
In a country, time and dimension where 'shinobi' was a foreign concept, Tenten stood at the edge of a dance floor and luxuriated in the pseudo-anonymity the entire ordeal provided the nobility. For those locked behind the physical constraints of tightly-laced corsets and neatly-pressed dresses as well as other less tangible, but no less restraining signs of their rank such as 'duty' and 'propriety' this was a chance to let one's hair down. A wry smile briefly touched Tenten's lips for her own hair was tightly constrained against her skull in some elaborate style with an inordinate number of pins that her maid had designed, but the analogy was apt enough – behind their masks, the young of the realm of Fire were free to act in ways that, were they wearing their own faces with their own alliances and reputations apparent, they wouldn't otherwise be free to.
The mystery was only in name of course – when one operated in such closed circles you became extremely familiar with your associates – for scraps of lace and silk could not completely hide a person however well-adorned they were with feathers and ribbons and objects of a sparkly nature. But the night was young and, this night, the nobles could frolic in their peacock-gay frippery, heady on wine, brandy and the sweet smell of jasmine pouring in from the open French windows that led to the gardens.
Tenten, safe behind a mask made of filigree as fine and delicate as lace, was free to treat the room and its inhabitants to her scrutinising eye. Across the room the foreign girl from the desert duchy to the west was resplendent in bronze and, unlike lesser girls who had tried before her, seemed capable of handling Shikamaru when he was at his most apathetic. His mother may have been encouraging (or forcing) her son to consider the politically sound match (his family's forests were close to Tenten's own home and she knew the Nara matriarch to be quite the ambitious woman when it came to extending her ties) but it was a credit to Temari that he hadn't yet slouched off to play shogi with the ministers who were too old and uninterested to dance.
The young woman let out a low snort, inaudible to anyone but herself in this quiet little corner that she'd chosen. Only Shikamaru could demonstrate such lazy disinterest in the face of the merriment their class seemed to live for. Absently, Tenten smoothed her fingers against her skirts and admired the way they moved around her legs – again, she reminded herself to thank Ino for loan of a dressmaker. The blonde girl in question was a vision in purple tonight and gave a good show on the dance floor as she allowed Kiba to swirl her around, holding her a little more tightly than was probably necessary.
However, tonight, they weren't Ino, Queen's daughter, and Kiba, son of an earl – they were merely an elegantly dressed pair of youngsters in lavender and burgundy masks, just as Tenten was a masked girl in wine red satin instead of the heir of the King's right hand man.
The burgundy material pooled around her feet in a sinuous curtain of what was, to her, woven decadence and while her expression held all the suitable haughtiness befitting her station, some impish version of herself giggled girlishly at the luxury of it all. There were appearances to be held up, however, so the trite silliness remained hidden, if not ignored.
Sometimes silliness was all a girl had.
"I never really saw you as one to play the wallflower," a voice commented archly.
The wallflower (who was perhaps more of a wild climbing rose than a cultivated creeping lilac) tipped a brow in response. "It's observation rather than evasion," she replied with a certain element of nonchalance to it. "I like to take my time."
The taller noble snorted in response to her pedantic choice of answer and voiced an admonishing "Tenten," by way of response.
"Ah-ah." Deliberately sing-song, the delicate jab was accompanied by a more physical one as she tapped her fan against his chest. "Not 'Tenten.' You must have me mistaken for someone else, dear sir."
A sleek eyebrow arched in questioning grace and she smiled benignly, an expression he responded to with narrowed eyes. "Forgive me, milady," he said finally in that perfectly cultured voice of his. "It was indeed an error on my half."
It appeared he was willing to take part in her games tonight, if only because the evening was about deception and mystery and walking paths one usually wouldn't. Something fizzed deliciously through Tenten's veins and she savoured it as she would a good brandy while she inspected him from behind her mask.
He always had looked good in the grey and the fine cut of his doublet spoke of wealth, taste and refinement. He may have been somewhat more anonymous in that moment with his long hair bound back and his charismatic face hidden behind pearly cloth (the enigmatic and vaguely avian mask came as no surprise to her) but she would be able to sketch his features in a hundred year's time. Their casual arrogance never ceased to intrigue her.
"You are indeed forgiven." Tenten gave the ghost of a curtsey and, in return, he dipped in a subdued example of his courtly bow. When his eyes rose to meet hers once more, they held inquiry within their pale depths.
"Would you care for a dance to seal my apology further?"
The polite thing to do here would have been to smile, demurely, and place her delicate little hand in the one he offered her while replying in her, softest, breathiest voice that she would love to dance. Unfortunately, the delicate hands and wussy voice were with her other dress and Tenten was forced to smile with all the sweetness of a honey pot and all the acidity of a jar full of vinegar.
"Maybe another time."
There were moments Tenten lived for and most of them included some version of an off balance Hyuuga Neji somewhere in their midst. He blinked, slow and owlishly. As well trained as he was in courtly arts, that was all he did, but it was a rather major slip up for one of Hyuuga blood. Good, Tenten thought briskly as she looked up at him through her lashes. If I wanted to associate with a block of wood, I'd be bothering Sasuke by now. Good lord, it was fun to keep him on his toes.
His subtle look of bemusement, however, rescinded soon enough when she tilted her head towards the entrance to the gardens with elegant meaning. "Perhaps a breath of fresh air instead? It can get quite stuffy in here when enough people have taken their turn on the dance floor."
Even hidden behind that mask of his she could sense the tiny muscles tweaking the corners of his mouth up into a Hyuuga parody of a smile, one minute and subtle in its infinite meaning. Her own mouth mirrored it in a softer, sweeter semblance.
Outside, the night air was sweet and fragrant, heavy with the smell of evening. Tenten inhaled appreciatively, aware of Neji's presence behind her on the veranda. Before them, the gardens stretched onwards in shadowy glory. Topiary formed amorphous shapes and, somewhere, water moved in some eddying journey. The sound of it vied for attention with the humming of the crickets as they lived, loved and died in the summer night. With her hands resting on the smooth stone of the balustrade, Tenten felt she could almost get drunk on it all – the jasmine sweetening the air, the stars in a glossy and dark sky, the warmth of Hyuuga Neji at her back…
"It's pretty," she said absently, gesturing vaguely towards the gardens that spread out into the gloom of the evening.
She didn't need to see him to know that one eyebrow rose pointedly behind the beaked mask. "'Pretty?'"
"Well, it is." Tenten sounded a trifle defensive in the face of her rather vague comment, but Neji was already chuckling lowly. It was a deep, smooth sound and it sent the smallest thrill down her spine. Under satin and lace, her skin prickled with something akin to anticipation and sometimes, just sometimes, Tenten loved being one of the nobility and the games that such a position offered her.
"Pretty," Neji repeated, but his eyes were on her and not the garden. "Perhaps."
The silence that fell between them was companionable and easy. Neji's finely made tunic made little sound when he moved to rest on the carved stone that fanned out into sweeping stairs leading to the lower levels and the garden. He was, as always, an immaculate figure. While Tenten could feel the minute grains of sandstone beginning to adhere themselves to her full sleeves, her skirts and her palms, dirt always avoided Neji, cowed into obedience by the power of Hyuuga blood. Some had it easier than others, it seemed, and the Hyuuga clan were on top of that ranked list. To anyone well versed in Konoha's history, this was hardly a surprise – save for the mysterious and somewhat feared Uchiha, only the Hyuuga could rival the royal family when it came to reverence. A secular clan, they had held positions of power for longer than those of the Yamanaka line, but seemed too reserved to actually make a bid for the throne.
Watching Neji from the corner of her eye, Tenten theorised that they didn't have to. When no one save the King commanded you and even then only at the clan head's decision, a crown was just a formality.
"Ino seemed to be enjoying herself tonight." They had gone without speaking for long enough that the sudden intrusion of words into the comfortable quiet was enough to make Tenten start slightly.
The girl shot him a look from under her lashes, briefly sharp and searching, before she shrugged with feigned grace. "I'd say it comes with her Highness' job description."
The glance Neji directed towards his shorter companion was reproving – her flippancy when it came to things like duty and fate and propriety had always been a subject of some considerable debate between them, but for once he let it slide in favour of carrying on the thread of conversation. "The Inuzuka doesn't fall into any royal plan that I know of." There was something haughty in his voice, something superior, and once it would have irritated Tenten enough into doing something rash and foolish. Now she merely rolled her eyes and silently marvelled at how close-minded some people could be when it came to rank. It was not a view she could sway (for Neji was Neji and Tenten was Tenten and because of that the latter could not persuade the former of anything – it was just the way things were and she'd made her peace with that a long time back.)
"I thought they made a pretty pair," she said in that deliberately vapid tone, the one that always made him curl his lip in slight distaste.
"'Pretty' doesn't seal an alliance." A sniff. "The Inuzuka are fourth generation nobility. Nothing extraordinary since all they can offer are hounds. Admittedly fine hounds for hunting and coursing, but dogs aren't going to win wars for Konoha."
Funny wasn't it how a single man could condense a clan, a i family /i , into what benefit they were to the realm. Funny wasn't it how the nobility treated their lineage like horse breeders, selling their sons and daughters in political marriages for the perfect culmination of blood, heritage and genetics. It was a dance still unfamiliar to Tenten and the only option left to her was to shrug once more, lightly. "Sometimes we do things for reasons other than what our duty demands."
"He's below her. Our Princess has no time for…" He weighed the words delicately. "…frivolities."
"Kiba's hardly frivolous," Tenten chided though amusement glittered softly in her brown eyes. "I'd say he has a sweet spot for Ino, even if he has odd ways of showing it." Not that either of them had many chances to show it, constrained as they were by the rules of society and propriety. For two souls as seemingly reckless and outspoken as the blonde girl and the brown-haired lad, they were certainly caging rules. "And you're silly," she finished and was rewarded with a suitably affronted (if puzzled) look. "Leave the two of them be – at least for tonight, they're not themselves." She tapped one finger against the side of her own mask. He regarded her carefully, if a little sceptically, assessing her behaviour with a jaded eye. Aye, she'd admit that she was acting a trifle…odd, but if it was possible to be drunk on sweet jasmine, slippery satin and Hyuuga Neji, then she was.
The night was young, it seemed, and there was plenty of time before down. Fun as they were, she'd had enough of noble politics and elegant dresses, barbed conversation and the rules, rules, rules. Time to break free, if only for a while – time to remind herself of her roots.
"Come," she said, pulling gently on his hand which she had wrapped in her own smaller two. He raised an eyebrow and she tugged again, more pointedly. "Come." His eyes through the slits in his mask said that he knew where she was taking him and knew that it was a scandalous activity she proposed. And, even though he outranked her, he obeyed. Willingly.
--
When the sweat lay cooling on their bodies and her fingers moved idly through his damp hair, Neji chanced a glance her way. With her mask long since removed and her hair unbound, the sometimes overly-sharp angles of her face were softened by the strands of homely brown falling around them. Her hair always seemed to fall into disarray as soon as it was loosed from the prison her hairpins formed. As such, at court it was necessary for her hair to always be pulled back severely, if only to appear neat and decorous. Somehow, seeing her like this was enough to soften his usually stiff muscles, relax his tense posture, relieve enough stress to allow him to float in a somewhat drowsy state…
…or was it just that the illicit, forbidden, highly indecorous sex had worn him out?
Neji may have been content to drowse, but Tenten clearly had other ideas. She stretched, arching her back in a decidedly feline manner. While well-brought up and a gentleman to the core, Neji still cast a quietly appreciative smirk in her direction at the view – Tenten always did bring out the worst in him.
"You do bring out the worst in me," he voiced accordingly, deciding it was too good a thought to let pass without informing her of its presence. He was hardly surprised when she chuckled, throatily, and kissed his forehead before sitting up and slipping off the bed. He had no desire to emulate her sudden activity, but he did prop his head up on one elegant hand to watch her as she collected the garments strewn rather…haphazardly over the floor, mumbling something about how her maid was going to kill her.
Once she'd put on her shift and had extracted the burgundy glory of her dress from where it lay entwined quite tenderly with his hose she bundled it up against her chest, pushing errant locks out of her eyes so that she could smile in his direction. "I prefer to think that I bring out the best in you." A deft movement pulled the gown over her head, but it took a tad more manoeuvring to find the neckhole. "Besides – someone needs to drag you off your noble high horse every now and then." Even muffled by the layers of stiff fabric between her mouth and him, her voice still held the usual teasing lilt that had first irritated him and now, instead, warmed him.
With a relieved sigh, Tenten poked her head through the correct hole and turned her attention to fitting her arms through next. The fashionable gowns these days were always tricky to put on without a maid's help and she was succeeding more through tenacity and luck than any real skill at the job.
Neji raised a brow pointedly at that. "Says the girl with the title," came his sarcastic response.
Tenten laughed, attempting to shake her hair into some kind of order. "Court gossip says it isn't really a title, for all the land that comes with it." She peered into the mirror hanging on the wall and made a rueful face at the still-chaotic reflection it showed. "No, I'm just a peasant girl whose Da was lucky enough to save the King's life in that battle against Oto." Tenten finally gave up on her hair and turned to face Neji with a look on her face that was half-exasperated, half-loving. "And all that means is that my nobility doesn't come from my blood, as yours does." She had to smile at his familiar, long-suffering eye roll. "It doesn't stretch back twelve generations either."
"Thirteen," Neji corrected, disapproving of her flippant manner once again. If it had been anyone else, they'd have been treated to a suitably arrogant, yet snide comment or, worse in a world where connections were everything, a dismissal of their presence as inconsequential. Seeing as it was Tenten that he was talking to, however, such tactics would have had no effect anyway.
"Whatever." She dismissed him with a wave of the hand. "The point is: sweet, nice and charming as I am, every inbred female at court looks down their shrew-esque nose at me because I don't have that little thing known as lineage."
"Hinata doesn't," Neji pointed out dryly.
"That," Tenten said, in an overly patient tone. "is because your cousin's a sweetheart and far too busy quietly trying to turn me into the perfect gentlewoman. And since your uncle and his blue, blue blood disapprove of me so highly, it more than evens out." Her smile was beatific and thoroughly teasing. "You're lucky I'm not the marrying type otherwise you'd have a devil of a time talking him around."
Since even she had her slow moments sometimes, it wasn't until after she'd adjusted her bodice, fastened her stockings and admired once again her pretty leather slippers that she noticed Neji was being abnormally silent, even for him. Turning to fix him with a quizzical look gave her a very good view of the tight, drawn expression on his face.
Then the penny dropped, as did something in the pit of her stomach.
"He'll never agree to it."
"He might."
"You're the pride of the Hyuuga – your marriage will be political." Tenten attempted a smile and she had a feeling it failed somewhat horrifically. "My political usefulness only lasts as long as my father's influence over the King does – it's not permanent."
"And?"
She sighed, exasperated, but yelped when a firm arm snaked over to wind around her waist. Resisting Neji when he was at most implacable was futile at best, so she settled for a token squirm before she let him reel her in.
"I'm a peasant."
"I know," he said dryly and pressed a kiss to the hollow at the base of her throat. That, she thought, was cheating.
"I'm not a virgin."
His smirk was eloquent. "I noticed." He didn't even have the decency to flinch when she thumped his shoulder lightly.
"My nobility doesn't stretch back a ridiculous number of years."
Neji chuckled and it was a proud, wicked sound. Even through the layers of silk at satin at the small of her back she could feel his hands burning against her skin. "I'm pretty sure my superior blood can cancel out your negative influence."
Noble blood or not, he certainly deserved another hit for that.