Cranked this one out in little over two hours, with neccessary breaks for sustenance. I may love to write, but I very well won't starve for it. :)

Enjoy.

She sighed, dragging her cup across the bar as she brushed back her long bangs from her eyes. They were irritating now, whispering silkily across her cheek with each slight motion, reminding her of the expensive shampoo from this morning and all the time and work wasted on her appearance, an appearance that seemed far too false anymore. She snipped off the rest of the thought there with a practiced ease. No need to remember right now and earn another headache. Besides, anything that reminded her of the world beyond this bar was irritating.

"Looks like you made quite a mess again," mentioned the young bartender, barely managing to look serious. He was tall and lean with a dirty apron and messy black hair held up in a high ponytail over his head. His face was sharp and angular with piercing eyes that looked as if they'd seen the world twice over.

The woman before him sighed dramatically while he wiped off the counter. The place was mostly empty except for several loners who obviously preferred to sit silently in corners. From what Ino could see, they were content to drown their sorrows in solitude and alcohol that had certainly seen better days.

The barkeep continued to wipe the counters, appearing very meticulous in his cleaning, yet as she glanced at him surreptitiously over the rim of the tankard in her hands, she could've sworn she saw him doggedly avoid several drying stains on the stone counter. She smirked and then glanced down moodily at the tankard in her hands, watching the dark liquid swish about in the grimy cup. Suddenly nauseated, she shoved the thing away.

"A glass of water," she said firmly. It had been a long time since her last drinking binge, and thus far, a memory of that night had prevented her from replaying the incident and she was determined that tonight, of all nights, was not going to be the latest. She was not going to give in simply because she felt bad.

The bartender looked over at the sound of her voice, smiling slightly at the resolute tones. He turned to face her, taking in her slightly disheveled appearance for the second time that evening. She wore dark-stained jeans, knee-high cowboy boots and a violet blouse that draped flawlessly over her feminine curves. Her countenance was beautiful with full lips and large, light blue eyes. Fair hair was held up by a silver clip as the rest trickled down to her waist with long bangs pulled over to one side, accentuating her pale skin. Yet, when he looked closer at the familiar face before him, he noticed her make-up was smudged and wisps of blonde hair struggled free from the perfect arrangement. She sighed again, looking directly into his eyes, daring him silently to take any longer to serve her.

He grinned, cheekily. "Given up so soon," he asked with a low, Southern drawl. He meandered closer, pretending to examine another section of counter with his dirty 'cleaning' rag before he continued. "I'd' a thought you, with all your practice—,"

"Please," she said, tiredly, the fierce façade slipping even further away as he slowly came nearer, still idly scratching the counter with his rag. She sighed again before laying her head on the cool counter as she shoved away the half-empty tankard. He stopped cleaning abruptly and looked over, his face now serious. Discerning eyes took in her tired features and widened a bit at the sight of her slumped posture. She was always one for appearances, whether in a dingy bar like this or among her powerful and prestigious upper class friends. Looking at her now, as far from normal behavior as she could get, troubled him.

Walking quietly, he grabbed a pitcher off of a nearby shelf and made his way over to her seat. She was in the middle of the long counter and seated directly before the main collection of beer glasses and nozzles. It was her usual spot, set perfectly so she could observe him and the surrounding area with the ease of a queen watching regally over her subjects. Now, she had her cheek pressed against the counter, shoulders slumped and eyes closed. He smiled softly at how open and relaxed she was still able to be with him, even after years of living away from one another.

'She'd only come back recently.' He chided himself silently, 'Besides, it ain't like she'd ever truly left.'

"Oh, come on doll-face," he said gently as he poured her a cup of water. "I know you. You're tough like nails."

She sighed again, shallowly this time, and he smiled slightly, encouraged.

"That guy was a jerk. He was an actor, for the Lords' sake. He may've looked all pretty and acted all fine, but he was addle-headed and ya' know it. He's studying to be a half-wit by the way he acted."

She groaned, her face still planted against the counter. "But it was me, Shikamaru. It was me and you know it." Her next words were less muffled as she turned her head toward him. "It's always me." She was serious. Ino was rarely this serious, let alone serious and truthful. It scared him.

"Naw," he said hurriedly, shaking his head. "More than half of that Hollywood bunch are working up to be real crazies. It ain't yer fault, that yer stuck with the lot of 'em," he ended lightly.

The corners of her mouth lifted up slightly, only to frown as he added rather offhandedly, "Not that yer rotten sense in men had anythin' to do with it."

She lifted up her head to glower at him, only to see him turn around and begin stacking glasses on various different shelves.

"Rotten sense?" she said, glaring daggers at his back. He grinned, glad that she couldn't see. He'd sparked the fire back to life, only wincing slightly as he thought, 'Now I get to pay for it.' She placed her hands on her hips and straightened up. "At least I had sense enough to get out before I was stuck in this hick-town forever." She smirked at him, as he swiveled back to face her slowly. He was still grinning, and she scowled at the unexpected expression. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the counter right in front of her.

"But don't ya remember Sai...or Lee. Outside those pretty pictures o' yours, they made an ordinary fight look like a prayer meetin'." Her lips twitched at the reminder, but she crossed her arms across her chest. "That was only two—,"

She was cut off again as he laughed, a low chuckle deep in his throat. "Do I have to bring up 'Prince' Sasuke?" he asked, mockingly.

"You know that was just one of his roles," she said, exasperated at the long-regretted experience.

"Oh, that's right; you were jus' the poor, bamboozled princess. Got swept away a little too hard for that role, don't ya think."

"B-but," she stuttered, racking her brain for a countering excuse. Her face grew hot and she yelled, "Fine! Maybe they all were complete loons, but at least I'm someone important now!"

Horrified, she covered her traitor lips with her hand and stared, appalled, at the man who still rested his elbows on the counter barely a foot away. He was motionless, staring blankly at the counter.

"Shika, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean it. It just-…I- I was mad and didn't think," she trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"You never think, do ya, Ino?" He said quietly, his eyes still trained on the counter. "But yer right, I didn't make it. You did." He closed his eyes briefly and began to step back as he muttered, "Troublesome," under his breath.

"But, you should've," Ino said hurriedly, reaching out to grab his wrist before he moved any further away. "Made it, I mean," she finished hastily. He tried to shrug off her hand, but she gripped even tighter.

"No, don' you remember?" she said urgently, her perfect English getting slurred in her rush to explain. "You were the dreamer back then. You'd shovel the muck in all the stalls and come out still daydreaming of makin' it big." She went on softly, lost in childhood reveries.

"You 'ad this air about you, and not jus' when you sang. As if all that stuff way out there," she gestured fervently behind her, "was a breath away. It was…exhilarating to think like that. I didn't do nothing, Shikamaru." She paused to glance up at his motionless face. "Ya don' get it do ya? You were—no, sorry, Shika—yer the only reason I'm where I am now. You, you shared yer spirit and I jus' got lucky along the way." She finished solemnly, gazing directly into his dark eyes, trying to peer into his thoughts as she stared. His dark eyes crinkled faintly as he smiled and he leaned over to cover the hand that still clasped his wrist with his one of his own.

She sighed inwardly, relieved that her big mouth hadn't just ruined everything. He was still Shikamaru; he would just keep going.

"Besides, you know they just picked me 'cause I'm pretty," she added lightly, in the same off-hand manner as he had before. He raised his eyebrows, now amused, and she blushed.

"Well, I am. I'm not gonna say I'm not," she said haughtily.

"Oh, Gawd." She paused, looking shocked. "You're rubbin' off on me, Shikamaru Nara," she huffed angrily, the barest hint of a drawl in her expressive voice.

He laughed. "Don' have ta catch what's been there the whole time," he said smirking.

"Oh, no, you didn't. I may've grown up the same, but that doesn't mean it's stuck on me," she shuddered.

He only laughed, "Don' you remember what we say back down there, or have ya' been gone too long to recall."

She rolled her eyes and joined in dully as he recited, "Accents run thicker than blood, no matter what those Yanks tell ya 'bout ancestry." They both held their breath for a second before they burst out laughing. They leaned closer as the chuckles slowed until only inches separated their eyes. "Now then, what were ya sayin' about my singing," he said with a touch of a smirk.

"That it's the most beautiful thing in all the world," she replied somberly. He chuckled again, "Aww, now doesn't that tickle my heart."

They lapsed back into silence after another round of laughter, for now, just content to be near each other.

She sighed as she ran a finger absentmindedly along the smooth length of his chin. "I've missed you, Shika." He closed his eyes, murmuring agreement.

She took the chance to examine his face more carefully. They'd spent so much time together ever since she'd been back just dancing around one another warily. She missed the childhood friendship that had gotten shoved away in place of the fast pace of adult life.

Looking, she could see he was handsome now, no longer stuck in that awkward stage between being a boy and a man. His eyes hadn't aged a day, but he'd always been an old soul anyways, with a depth to him that she'd forgotten existed in most people. She squeezed his hand tighter, reveling in the feel of safety. It wasn't sudden, more like the opening of a very heavy gate. She felt like she'd been shoving herself against it for all of her life and only now managed a peek of the other side.

"Shika," she whispered, her breath ghosting over his lips as she drew closer. She closed the distance between them and brushed her lips softly over his barely parted ones. He sucked in a breath and opened his eyes abruptly, startling her into jerking back abruptly. She hurried to categorize all the emotions rushing across his face, inwardly cursing that last swallow of alcohol.

She didn't have a chance to speak before he leaned forward and recaptured her lips with his, pressing against her passionately. After an initial moment of surprise, she responded eagerly, moving forward to wrap her arms around his, melting into the kiss.

They broke apart when they ran out of air, their eyes locking fervently. "I was so silly, Shika," she whispered breathlessly. "All those times…and you were right here in front of me the whole time. I'm sorry." Her voice shook as she ended and her blue eyes glistened wetly.

"Don't be," he said gently. "I'm just lazy and you'd've come around eventually," he said, the teasing tone in his pleasant voice returning.

She closed her eyes, hearing him murmur, "I wouldn't change a thing," before he swept her up in another stunning kiss that melted her right back down into her cowboy boots.

Whew. Was watching "Sweet Home Alabama" and next thing I knew I was scribbling furiously in my furry purple notebook.

And please, someone tell me that Shikamaru with a Southern accent is not the sweetest thing in the world( although I have to admit that he doesn't quite look the part like Ino does). Also, just in case you didn't catch it, both Shikamaru and Ino grew up in a hick town, dreaming of fame( slight OC Shikamaru, I know. Him, actually wanting to do something. ;) ), but only Ino made it big.

Anyways, please tell me what you think.

Love,

Bears