Disclaimer: We do not own Naruto or any of the characters, and this piece of fanfiction exists for the sole purpose of entertainment.
Pairing: KibaShika
Genre: drama, romance
Rating: PG-13
Words: 7312
Warnings: homosexuality, language
Summary: Kiba may be glib with everyone else, but Shikamaru is… a special case.
A/N: This story was written through roleplay between Futago no Seishi and LilPurplFlwr (hachimitsu.umeshu is their joint writing account). Kiba written by Futago no Seishi and Shikamaru written by LilPurplFlwr. Editing and minor re-writing by Futago no Seishi. Written roughly a year ago and finally up because LilPurplFlwr says so and I am her bitch.
Solve for X
One: The Inherent Dangers of Tutoring
Shikamaru was predictable. There was nothing that he found more satisfying than lounging on a grassy hilltop. Given that his life revolved around how to minimize energy expenditure, he didn't bother to sit up or look elsewhere. Watching the clouds was still as relaxing as it was when he was younger. Still, by the position of the sun, he could tell that Kiba was late. His friend's soccer practice must have ended by now. The occasional distant shouts from the track and field area below had ceased in occurrence. It wasn't a big deal that they would be eating late, but if Kiba was in any way similar to the Kiba he knew as a child, Shikamaru would be in for a long rant about hunger, discomfort, and a general hour-by-hour recap of events (presumably revolving around soccer). In any case, Shikamaru felt more insecure as the minutes went by. Cloud-watching was fine, but waiting was just troublesome.
"Ugh," Kiba groaned as he jogged up the pathway, his tight leg muscles protesting against the added strain. He huffed and puffed a bit as he pulled his bag of equipment further up on his shoulder, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the way his jersey clung to his torso damply. The early evening breeze cooled his heated skin, and he squinted at the setting sun as he wiped a trickle of sweat away from his brow. In short time, he spotted Shikamaru sprawled on his favorite spot on the grassy hill, and he pushed his tired body over to his friend. "Oi!" he yelled as he approached before stopping a couple feet away from the boy, bending over with his hands on his knees as he tried to regain his breath.
"God, practice went on forever," he immediately griped between pants, rubbing at his sore calves and quads while he spoke. "I swear, Coach Henley is a demon. I'm not going to be able to walk for days!" The exaggeration, of course, was uncalled for, seeing as he had all but jogged the third of a mile up to where Shikamaru lay. "Come on, let's go. I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse!"
And with that, he proceeded to reach out a sweaty hand to poke at Shikamaru's shoulder, a bright grin plastered on his face, flushed from exertion and the setting sun.
"Yeah…" He felt somewhat obligated to say something, even if the word ratio was about 20:1. Shikamaru shifted his eyes from the sky to his friend, only to gauge how long he could continue to lie on the grass. Not long, really (a poke spoke wonders). He might get manhandled into standing if he wasted another second in his beloved horizontal position. Rolling to one side, he got to his feet leisurely, brushing off clinging strands of grass. He sighed for the imminent long trek to the dining hall.
He stared at Kiba, assessing the damage done from practice. "Big game coming up?" Shikamaru wasn't much of a talker, but a childhood friend deserved some semblance of conversation (okay, so he was a little rusty).
Kiba was just about to reach out and pull Shikamaru forcibly up to his feet when the older boy lazily rolled over and stood up on his own. Straightening up himself, Kiba swung his bag over onto his other shoulder, his neck getting sore from carrying the heavy weight the entire trek up here. They had about another quarter of a mile before they made it to the dining hall, and he didn't fancy waking up with a sore crick in his neck in addition to his sore leg muscles.
"Ah, yeah," Kiba finally replied to his friend's question as they began walking back towards the main campus, Kiba having to continually slow down his steps whenever he walked too far past the slow-moving boy. "Next week's semi-finals. Things are going to be tough from here on out… maaan, and I've got so much homework coming up with the end of the semester and all!" Kiba kicked angrily at a patch of grass, dislodging some dirt beneath his cleats.
But his mood seemed to do a one-eighty as he turned around and grinned brightly at the shorter boy (Shikamaru always claimed they were the same height, but really, it was just that pineapple tuft of hair of his). "But! They have me starting off! And coach said I played really well today and improved a lot throughout the season! And today, during practice…"
Kiba continued to ramble on as they approached the stone buildings of their campus, arms gesticulating around him wildly and paying no mind to Shikamaru's seeming lack of interest. Other students passed them by on the way to the dorms, the library, or other such facilities on campus, and in the midst of it all, Kiba found himself raising his voice slightly unconsciously.
Shikamaru kept an even pace toward the dining hall, noting how awkward his friend walked to stay beside him, just like how a reaction would only proceed as fast as its slowest step. As expected, Kiba was enthusiastically and smoothly conversing, so easily that even Shikamaru's occasional monosyllabic responses couldn't deter the easy flow. His friend had a way of speaking that would make for easy eavesdropping—the type of information that painted a clear picture of the speaker.
As he stepped into the dining area, Shikamaru again felt slightly uneasy with the noisy, bustling staff and students. He typically chose earlier or later times to avoid the crowds. Shikamaru would admit that he sometimes thought it strange that he and Kiba got along all right with such different personalities.
Once they were inside the dining hall and the smell of food assaulted his senses, Kiba's stomach did a little flop and twisted itself into a knot. "Urgh… so hungry…" he groaned, grabbing onto Shikamaru's wrist and all but dragging the boy over to the cafeteria's entrance line. Once settled into the line of hungry students, Kiba proceeded to fumble around for the student ID that would let him inside and get his fill of food.
Even though his fingers had already brushed against the plastic edges of his ID, he used the pretense that he was still rummaging through his bag in order to sneak in a glance at his old friend. Peering sidelong through auburn bangs, stringy with drying perspiration, he allowed himself to stare at Shikamaru's profile next to him.
Kiba had realized that he had a crush on Shikamaru some time in middle school. He wasn't quite sure when, but he thinks it was some time when he was in 6th grade and the other boy was in 7th. They had grown up together in the same neighborhood and remained close, despite their rather different personalities. And when Kiba came to the realization that he liked Shikamaru as maybe more than just a best friend, well… it frightened him. So he never said anything to the other boy and swallowed his feelings down, pretending as if nothing had changed.
But the year of separation after Shikamaru graduated and went off to high school was the longest year of his young life ever. Since Shikamaru was away at a boarding school, they weren't able to see each other—and with the other boy's communications skills, obviously they fell out of touch. So Kiba was beyond thrilled when they were able to reunite once more. However, he was afraid now that he was no longer able to squash his feelings for the other boy. He'd gone through many girlfriends trying to forget the lazy drawl of Shikamaru's voice and the pale hue of his skin. He'd tried to have conversations with witty girls in order to forget Shikamaru's cynical intelligence. But no matter how much he tried, in the end, he realized he was just deluding himself.
He shook his head lightly and sighed before he pulled his card out of one of the many pockets in his bag, shuffling forward along with the line and smiling jovially at the woman at the register as she swiped his card.
"KI-ba!" Shikamaru found himself disturbingly easy to move around (1. Grip desired appendage, 2. Give a good jerk, and 3. Lead to destination). As they integrated into the line of students, Shikamaru haltingly moved forward with his friend and then nonchalantly handed his card (found very easily in his back pocket) to be swiped. After being swiped, he scanned the large area for free seats, considering the two/four seat tables. "Kiba, want to sit by the windows?" he asked absently, looking outside at the sherbet-colored sky.
Kiba could care less where they sat right now as long as he could get food into his stomach. Hey, was that spare ribs they were serving?! The boy craned his neck around the crowd of students hovering over various areas of the cafeteria and indeed spotted his favorite dish on the menu.
"Yeah, yeah, window's fine. Food!" And without further word, the brunet pushed through the mass of bodies and towards his goal of sauce-smothered meat, leaving Shikamaru the task of securing their table. But not before depositing his heavy equipment bag at the other boy's feet, all his bittersweet musings forgotten in the ever-important quest for foodstuff.
In the time it would take to roll one's eyes, Shikamaru watched the other boy disappear in record speed. With a glance down to the large bag on the ground, he gave it a good stare. Succumbing with a sigh, he shouldered the load and went to drop it by an empty table. If this didn't spell troublesome, he didn't know what did. Sports made everything more inconvenient. Friends apparently made life incredibly troublesome also. Or maybe he was just lucky to have Kiba.
With his hands free, he moved habitually toward the salad bar where students moved through quickly. Nearby, he grabbed a plate and began to construct a sandwich for himself. Feeling a little too lazy to grab a tray, he decided to hold off on a salad, and went to fill a glass of milk before retreating back to their table to sit down.
With a triumphant laugh (sort of close to a giggle, but he would never own up to it), Kiba maneuvered his way out of the line, plate of spare ribs and steamed broccoli and mashed potatoes sitting lovingly on the center of his tray. Next, he made his round over to the salad bar, getting a small side salad and some hummus and pita chips before grabbing a soda to wash everything down. And silverware… he had a bad habit of forgetting to grab silverware.
He craned his neck around the dining hall, looking for that familiar spike of hair and spotted Shikamaru towards the far end of the room, nestled in the corner at one of the free tables by the window. The boy was solemnly munching on his sandwich and staring outside, and Kiba allowed himself another moment to stare at the other boy. Well, it wasn't like he could do so outright without gaining a questioning glance, and Shikamaru looked so… pensive. And mature. And that's what Kiba found so terribly attractive about him.
Shuffling over there, careful not to spill his soda, he plopped down on the seat across from his friend. After setting his tray down, he picked up the bowl of salad and gracelessly slid it across the table towards the other boy. "Oi. You'll be hungry if you don't eat up," he remarked as he stabbed a fork into his mashed potatoes, scooping some into his mouth.
Shikamaru blinked as the salad was pushed toward him. Looking up to catch the other's eye, he couldn't help but smile a little. "Thanks, Kiba."
As he continued to take regular bites of his sandwich, Shikamaru watched his friend dig into his spare ribs. He tilted his head. Even at this angle, the act looked a little like a carnivorous dinosaur at a barbeque. Strange. He half-smirked into his sandwich. Even though it had been a while, this was oddly nice. Despite having grown apart over the past year, the sense of familiarity was still there. Detail exchange wasn't particularly necessary for that closeness established over years.
Kiba was in the middle of viciously tearing meat away from a bone using naught but his incisors and the help of a canine when he caught sight of the small smile that Shikamaru flashed his way. A genuine smile from the other boy was a rather rare sight and, over the years, its appearance began to have increasingly embarrassing effects on Kiba's body. So, as he felt a small flush creep up his neck and along his cheeks, Kiba quickly grabbed at his napkin and rubbed over the lower half of his face, trying to look like he was merely wiping away sauce from his lips instead of hiding behind his napkin.
He grunted a reply of sorts and bent his head down, letting his bangs obscure his face while he waited for the stupid blush to die down, gnawing with fervor on his ribs. Damn it. He was already blushing and he hadn't even asked yet… Kiba sighed inwardly as he contemplated whether this would be a fabulous idea or a recipe for disaster. But he was always one to follow his gut rather than his brain, and his gut (aside from telling him to put more food into it) was insisting that he stop being a pansy ass and do it already.
So Kiba took a deep breath, staring morosely at a broccoli before chomping on it as if in resignation.
"Hey, uh… Shika?" he started, his voice a little more uncertain than he would have liked. He lifted his free hand up to rub nervously at the back of his neck, an embarrassed smile curving up his lips as he looked at the other boy. "I know you're probably busy with like your own shit and all, and this is probably a lot to ask… but, do you think you could, you know, help me out in some of my subjects?" His eyes, which had been flitting all around the room, finally settled on the older boy after he asked the question—and the moment he did so, that damned flush crept up on his skin once more, and the embarrassment he felt at its sudden reappearance only worsened its presence.
It was as if looking at Shikamaru caused all control over his tongue to go out the window. "'Cause, you know, I have semi-finals coming up and all, and coach is unhappy with my grades and I don't want to disappoint anyone, and I'm kinda unhappy with them myself and I want to do well, but, you know, if you're busy, it's fine, I'll understand, don't worry about it, but, I mean, it'd really mean a lot to me… I guess." He finished with a rush of breath, his fork stabbing uselessly at mashed potatoes before he realized what he was doing. He quickly brought the fork to his mouth and shoved some food in, grateful he had something else to distract himself with instead of letting his mouth run some more. He stared out the window, somehow nervous to look at the other boy, and wanted to smack himself over the head for acting like a 12-year-old girl.
Shikamaru always knew Kiba to be the talker out of the two, but this was definitely an odd change of demeanor. Kiba never had a personality that pulled off uncertainty. At best, his friend could pull off confused with a mix of impudence. Something along the lines of: Hey, I don't really know, but you're going to tell me (insert dangerous grin). Kiba just wasn't… shy. Shikamaru watched his friend turn pinker and came to realize that staring at Kiba wasn't helping the flushing problem at all. He decided he had better avert his eyes and settled on staring over the other's shoulder. As long as Kiba wasn't choking (his friend would have gone pale… and probably blue).
Of course, this was probably all due to a blow on Kiba's ego, having to ask for his help. It took a certain amount of self-assurance to be so… troublesome.
However, this abnormal behavior aside, it was necessary to fully consider this request. Naturally, Shikamaru was not a busy person. He had a lot of what people considered free time. He certainly didn't have any extra curriculum (cloud-watching and shougi-playing weren't official). Helping others was—you guessed it—extra (troublesome) work. But Kiba was a close friend, and Shikamaru didn't turn his back on friends.
Well, Shikamaru had faith. With attention, Kiba would do all right. "Okay…" he frowned, giving the table surface a good frown as he willed himself not to interject a How Troublesome© statement. Stepping on the other's pride wasn't really his thing. It bothered him to see Kiba so uncomfortable, he who could probably befriend anything (yes, anything). "What subjects?"
"Eh?" Kiba asked eloquently as Shikamaru proceeded to agree to his request, shocked out of his self-berating while angrily scarfing down the remains of his dinner. "You mean you'll tutor me?" he blurted out without thinking, blinking wide eyes at the other boy and the angry blush still lurking slightly beneath his skin. He couldn't even care to think about whether Shikamaru thought he was troublesome or whatever; he was suddenly filled with a giddy sort of excitement at the prospect of having Shikamaru help him with his studies, never mind the fact that he didn't like school much to begin with. But it was Shikamaru, and he knew he wouldn't mind crunching through algebra with the other boy helping him while muttering about how much of an idiot he was.
A bright grin twisted up Kiba's lips and his face returned to its characteristic expression as he leaned back in his chair, stretching as if he'd just undergone some strenuous physical ordeal. "Ah, thanks man! I really appreciate it! I know how this is going to encroach on your oh so precious time," he teased, snickering a bit as he finished off his pita chips. "But yeah, um… math. I really need help in math. I just don't get algebra. And English—fucking hell is a topic sentence, eh? Anyway. Um, I guess those are the big ones. But," he continued, leaning forward and closer to Shikamaru, all traces of his shyness now gone from his demeanor (but really, if he didn't fold his hands together, they'd probably tremble), "if you wanna help me in my other subjects, I'm sure I could find some suitable way to pay you back…" Here he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, well aware of the irony that he'd, in fact, want nothing more than to pay back Shikamaru in less than ordinary means.
Shikamaru had to quirk an eyebrow. After a year, he had completely forgotten Kiba's tendency to insinuate sex. Not that it was awkward; it just seemed rather unnecessary. Very similar to Kiba's prior discomfort (and maybe also the boy's ability to ceaselessly talk). Anyhow, he felt he should dignify the comment with a small grin. "Yeah, just don't blame me when you get kicked off the team."
"Kicked off the team?" Kiba repeated in mock innocence, leaning just slightly closer to his best-friend-turned-crush. "Now, would that be for failing my classes, or…" he trailed off, baring a canine and licking at it as his tone dropped suggestively, "for being caught engaging in sodomy?" After finishing this comment, he gave Shikamaru's frame an exaggerated once-over, hoping the boy would take it as a joking gesture he was passing it off as.
He laughed easily (or so he tried to make it seem like it) as he pushed back from the table and stood up. Although he may have appeared casual and composed on the outside, on the inside he was a wreck of nerves. Well, if you can't speak about it frankly, joke to all hell about it, was his motto. So, swallowing thickly and trying to act natural, he grabbed his heavy bag of equipment off from the floor and swung it back up onto his shoulder. "But seriously. Can you help me tonight? Any time's fine for me. Just gimme time for a shower, though, unless you like the sexy man stench."
Feeling his eyes threaten to cross at the closing proximity, Shikamaru was all too glad when Kiba suddenly got to his feet. He obviously couldn't roll his eyes if they got stuck crossed. Leaning back in his chair, Shikamaru sighed. "You're so charming. When you finish showering, bring your books to my room."
"I know." He flashed a wide grin at the still-seated boy, tossing some of his bangs away from his face. "My charms are wasted on the likes of you," he joked bitterly, "seeing as you obviously can't appreciate greatness when it stares you in the face."
He picked up his tray absently, shifting until he'd gained a good balance between all his items. "Alright then. See you in a bit. Don't wait up too long for me," he teased as he walked away, depositing his dirty tray in the collector before sneaking back into the food area to grab a cookie. Then, while shoving the chocolate-chip delight into his mouth, he flounced out of the cafeteria, a little bubble of excitement growing somewhere around his sternum.
- - - - -
Kiba stood staring at himself in the slightly foggy mirror, damp hair hanging in front of his eyes and dripping onto his shoulders. Dark eyes stared back at him as he scrutinized the image of the boy in the mirror. No longer short, but not exactly tall yet—could use some more growing. Sort of scrawny-looking at first glance, but muscular upon closer inspection. Golden-tanned skin peppered with scars from an all too careless lifestyle.
He stared at himself in the mirror some more, gnawing on his lower lip before he sighed and shook his head. This was ridiculous. He was going to Shikamaru's room to get tutored. This was his best friend, and it wasn't like it was a date or anything. He should stop preening in front of the mirror now, and no way in hell would he allow himself to stand in front of his closet and dwell on what he should wear. With that thought, he scrubbed at his hair furiously with the towel once more before shaking it out, combing a hand through it haphazardly before exiting the steamy bathroom.
One of his roommates, Naruto, was gone. Probably eating or something. Shino was studying quietly and didn't seem to pay him much mind, but Kiba didn't mind either way. He walked briskly over to his closet, and despite his previous admonitions, ended up staring indecisively at a couple of articles before just settling on some plain jeans, a graphic tee, and his favorite hoodie. What the hell was up with him? But he couldn't squash the little flutter in his stomach whenever he thought of spending hours alone together in Shikamaru's room, and he found it hard to swallow a bit as he tugged the hoodie over his body.
His books were quickly shoved into his backpack and, with a quick "See ya," he was out the door, bouncing down the hallways and out of his freshman dorm, heading over to one of the sophomore dorms. Although Kiba knew where the older boy lived, he had rarely ever gone over there—there just was no real need to before. And the closer he got to the dorm, the more his stomach did little flip flops until he was giddy by the time he reached Shikamaru's door. He stood outside it for a few moments, staring at it as he tried to squash his apprehension.
After nervously fixing his still-damp hair and then mentally scolding himself for the girly action, he knocked loudly a few times to let the other boy know that he was there. It was exactly an hour and 10 minutes since they'd parted after dinner.
Shikamaru was lounging on his bed. Exciting, right? He had showered, changed, and even considered doing homework to kill time until Kiba came over. Of course, that idea was scrapped, and while he lay sprawled on the mattress, he considered if grades were worthy enough for him to actually turn in assignments. Of course not. And while he lay in bed pondering these important matters, he had ended up dozing lightly until firm knocking alerted him of Kiba's arrival. Getting to his feet slowly, Shikamaru ran a hand through his loose hair and yawned as he walked to the door.
As he pulled it open, he gestured inward. "Come in." He barely glanced at Kiba, rather just leaning against the door jamb as he tried to blink the vestiges of sleep out of his eyes.
Now see, Kiba would have come in had he not been so shocked. But the sight before him had this strange effect of riveting his feet to the carpeting outside of the other boy's door, and he just blinked dumbly at him for a moment. For Shikamaru had left his hair down. Which still happened to be damp from what he assumed was a shower, too.
Kiba stared at the other boy for a long moment, his heartbeat increasing noticeably, but the blush not rising to his face (amusingly enough). Rather, a most unfortunate bodily reaction was occurring instead. Rather than the blood rushing upwards to his face, he was vaguely alarmed to find that, with a little tingle deep in his abdomen, the blood seemed to be flowing down. That was not a good thing right now. Shikamaru letting his hair down should not cause such a reaction, even if he was infatuated. He chalked it up to hormones.
So, thinking of un-arousing things like dead puppies and old ladies, Kiba forced himself out of his daze, cocking his head to the side and grinning winningly at the other boy. "Did you wait up long for me?" he teased, stepping inside and all the while thinking that he somehow had to keep Shikamaru from tying his hair up. Because, holy hell, he was hot—and really, Kiba didn't ask the other boy to tutor him to honestly improve his grades.
"I slept a little," Shikamaru answered, closing the door as the other entered and apparently unfazed at Kiba's gawking. He glanced around the room before he grabbed his roommate's chair and set it beside his own at his desk. It wasn't as if Neji was there, so he couldn't complain. He dropped into one seat and nodded for Kiba to sit beside him.
"So what do you want to do first?" He frowned as he had to push slightly long dark strands out of his face yet again. What an annoyance. Where was his hair tie?
Kiba had to bite his tongue, because he wanted to say "you" in answer to Shikamaru's question, though he had a feeing that wouldn't go over too well with the other boy. So, instead, he wandered over and took the offered seat next to his friend, dropping his backpack down on the floor and proceeding to rummage through it.
"Um, algebra, I guess." He pulled out a tattered, used textbook and his binder and dropped them unceremoniously onto the table before grabbing his pencil and calculator. He was trying to make it not completely obvious that he was staring at the other boy, but he wasn't sure if he was succeeding. But half the time, he wondered if Shika even noticed—or frankly cared. But right now, Shikamaru was just so damn attractive with his black hair loose and framing his angular face, and he smelled so nice from his shower—a fresh yet sharp scent—and Kiba suddenly felt rather hot in his hoodie.
"Can you find the page?" Shikamaru asked, not paying too much attention and glancing around his desk. None. He reached to pull open his desk drawer and found a hair tie hanging out with his pencils. Perfect. He could grab a writing instrument while he was at it, too. "Hold on a second." Trapping the small elastic band between his lips, he used both hands to pull up his irritating hair into his normal ponytail.
Kiba was already on the page, and was just absently watching Shikamaru rummage around his desk. He chewed lightly on the end of his pencil as he looked at the other boy's profile, flipping on the desk lamp while he was at it. It cast a warm glow over both of their bodies.
When he turned around, he saw Shikamaru fighting with his hair and a hair band (the enemy!) caught between his lips. Before Kiba could stop it, he found himself blurting out the thoughts that were on his mind. "Don't!" Then he blinked, eyes going wide as he realized what an awkward command that was. Don't what? Don't tie your hair up? Don't look at me like I'm being extremely troublesome? Don't be so damn sexy so I could move on okaythanks?
When Shikamaru only cast him a questioning glance, he found himself stuttering and unsure of what to say. "Well, you see, um…" he started, licking at his lips and turning his face away, scratching at his head nervously as he wracked his brain for an excuse. He took a little breath to try to compose himself. "Don't tie your hair up," he mumbled quietly, putting his elbow on the desk and dropping his cheek onto his open palm, all the while staring at Shikamaru. "I never get to see you with your hair down." He didn't flash any of his silly grins at the older boy; rather, he let a small pout form on his lips and the tiniest hint of a whine enter the tone of his voice. He was hoping that Shikamaru would just do as he asked in order to placate him.
And all the while his heart was going a mile a minute in his chest, so loud that he was afraid that the other might be able to hear it.
No one should be allowed to look like a kicked puppy. In the rain. Drowning.
Shikamaru never really questioned Kiba's behavior, but he felt mildly suspicious of what exactly was running through his friend's head. The oddities could be easily ignored—obviously, it didn't occur to Shikamaru to actually look for strange actions—but he had never encountered so many instances in a single day where he thought, Kiba, are you okay? For example: What did his hair have to do with anything?
Either way, he didn't want an argument, so Shikamaru complied, inattentively placing the tie on top of his printer while his free hand combed back falling strands. "Okay… " But he couldn't brush off the irksome, weird feeling when the other's eyes were on him. He was finding it hard to stare right back at Kiba. So, instead, Shikamaru settled for studying the algebra textbook. "What problems were you assigned?"
Kiba was frankly surprised that he was able to convince Shikamaru to keep his hair down. He swallowed a bit nervously as he looked away from the other boy who was starting to look rather uncomfortable himself. An awkward silence stretched out between them and Kiba tried his very hardest to ignore it as he fumbled with his binder, checking the assignment.
"Um… fifteen through thirty-one odd, forty-six, fifty-three, and… sixty-nine." He rattled off the numbers monotonously until the last one, where his voice did this funny little glitch, which was probably a result of the images his mind conjured from the connotation of the very simple words. Sitting in close proximity to Shikamaru, all alone for god knows how long, and being a hormonally charged fourteen-year-old boy was doing wonders to his mental state—and his body, as well. He felt his temperature go up and had the sudden urge to take off his sweatshirt. And he almost did so before he realized that having thick, baggy material covering his lap would probably be for the best in this situation.
If he wasn't feeling insecure enough, it suddenly struck Shikamaru that he didn't know how to tutor. In fact, he didn't even have a basic idea. He scanned through the homework problems. The first nine were very general compared to the last tricky three. The assignment was probably made for half and hour, but how was it… not understandable? He frowned and grabbed a piece of scratch paper. He didn't know what the heck he was doing. He copied down the first problem and attempted to explain his perspective.
"These problems are all essentially the same. They repeat with different numbers." He began to show all the steps he used into order to solve the problem. "Don't worry if algebra's not your thing. Maybe you'll like statistics… distributions and stuff. Maybe some probability. If you have a bag of five balls, and two are blue, what is the probability that you'll draw a blue ball? Not hard, right?" He wrote down the second problem right next to the first and pushed the paper to Kiba, barely aware that he was babbling as a result of his uncertainty. "Anyway, what would you do first?"
Kiba just blinked as Shikamaru whizzed through the steps to the first problem, all the while babbling about statistics. Distribution? The hell? He just blinked as the other boy did the problem effortlessly, performing the calculations in his head whereas Kiba would have had to turn to the calculator in order to save his life. It was… mind boggling. Kiba momentarily forgot all about the other boy's attractive looks and proximity (and the tension of the situation) as he all but gawked at Shikamaru's brilliance.
"Uh," he answered intelligently, blinking as he picked up his pencil and tried the second problem, trying to mimic Shikamaru's example and obviously failing miserably. His stupid y was on one side, and his x's on the other, and he just had no freaking clue how to get them on the same side. What the hell did Shika do again? He furrowed his brow as he scribbled messy numbers on the paper. Maybe if he did this…
"Um, Shika. That's great and all about the probability and shit, but… that's not algebra," he stated the obvious as he punched some wrong numbers into the calculator and wrote some equally wrong numbers down on the paper (not that he knew they were incorrect). "Not that I want to learn algebra, but I'm just sayin'." There was a long pause as he stared at his answer, which seemed very, very odd. "… Uh, this isn't right, is it?"
Shikamaru watched Kiba attempt the next problem, and he felt the urge to jump in at the first wrong operation. He restrained himself but had subconsciously twitched instead, elbow hitting his pencil, which had the audacity to roll off the back of his desk. Oh, damn. He stared at the fallen pencil with displeasure as he waited patiently while the other finished the problem. The answer was… completely off.
"It's," he paused, "not quite right." Lazy as he was, Shikamaru decided to borrow Kiba's pencil instead of retrieve his own. The latter course of action would prove much too troublesome. As his fingers slipped above his friend's grip, he froze as their hands brushed against each other. He tensed. It didn't feel right, whereas usually he wouldn't have noticed. He should have retreated, but the pencil was so conveniently there. He wasn't sure what exactly to say though as he sat there unmoving. "Well, let me… re-organize your work."
When Shikamaru's hand brushed against his, Kiba's hand twitched of its own volition, leaving a dark, jagged streak of graphite cutting through part of his work.
His breath caught in his throat, and the light grazing of skin against skin sent little sparks of sensation crawling up and down his spine. Shikamaru's hand was cool and slightly dry, just a touch smaller than his own. And Shikamaru's voice was soft and uncertain by his ear, and the other boy was so very, very close to him that it was almost unbearable, and Kiba was nearly boiling inside of his hoodie.
Kiba outright ignored what the other boy said; in fact, he barely registered it. He dropped the pencil that Shikamaru had been reaching for, instead cupping his hand over the other boy's wrist and holding onto it tightly. His gaze was intense as he fixed it on the older boy, and his lips parted slightly as he breathed, his heart racing a mile a minute. What the fuck was he doing? Even he wasn't sure. But all he knew was that he couldn't let go—couldn't stop looking at those dark eyes, that pale face framed by straight, ebon strands, and those lips that looked temptingly soft.
Kiba wasn't even aware of it, but in his dazed staring, he had inched ever so slightly towards the shocked boy, his hand still holding firmly onto the other.
Suddenly alarmed when his wrist was enslaved, Shikamaru froze. His friend's hand was incredibly warm, maybe even feverish. The pencil couldn't have been that sacred. He let his searching hand relax, coming to rest on the desk surface. He should have just spent the energy to rifle for another pencil in his drawer. It didn't feel like he could easily wriggle his way out of Kiba's grip. "Kiba," he leaned closer to study the other's unfocused expression, starting to berate himself for not acting on his worry earlier, "do you feel sick?" It was a logical explanation for the other boy's current odd behavior, and he cautiously offered, "I have cold medicine, if you want."
All Kiba registered was that Shikamaru's face was coming closer to him, and it seemed that with every inch that was closed, his heart sped up by a few beats per second until he felt it was sure to burst straight through his rib cage. He swallowed thickly as he stared at the other boy, licking at his suddenly dry lips. He wanted so very badly to breach those last few inches that separated them and press his lips against the other boy's, to kiss him as all his impulses were urging him to. Somewhere, a very quiet part of his mind was sending out alarm signals that this would be a terribly bad idea, but he was too far caught up in the moment to notice it, and hell—he was one to follow his impulses, and right now, every fiber of his being was telling him to pull Shikamaru close and plant him a wet one.
So he proceeded to do just that.
However, things didn't go exactly according to plan. His nervous, young body jerked forward in an awkward manner, and rather than the perfect, picturesque kiss of fairy tales, he ended up bopping noses with the other boy and pressing his lips somewhere along the corner of Shikamaru's mouth near his cheek. It was rather disappointing, sort of like a lukewarm drink of water on a hot summer day. Instead of cold ice water flowing down his throat, it was this tepid sort of letdown that nonetheless quenched his thirst.
It was the shock of his failed kiss that jolted him out from his hormonal, infatuated stupor, and he thought his heart had the equivalent of a short circuit, because he could have sworn it stopped as he realized just what he had done.
As their noses bumped, Shikamaru felt the other's lips press against the corner of his mouth. What… was this? Shikamaru jerked back, heart thudding quickly at the shock. His eyes uncrossed from having attempted to follow Kiba's image as it suddenly rushed toward his face. Moving quite on its own, his hand went to the assaulted area and lightly swiped. Not that it was unclean, per se. It was just… an odd feeling that needed to be touched for confirmation. He knew his eyes were wide, and he knew his mouth was slightly open for questioning, but he just couldn't ask why—didn't know the words. So he shut his mouth.
And all the while, Kiba was trying very hard to get his uncooperative lungs to draw much wanted air into his tense body. But it felt as if an iron door had clamped shut somewhere in his trachea, and no matter how much his throat worked, no air passed through.
Shikamaru was gaping at him. In the split second it took for Shikamaru's eyes to widen in shock, Kiba knew he had ruined everything with his rash actions. His hands started to tremble on his lap as his chest tightened uncomfortably, and he wasn't sure whether it was from the lack of oxygen he was experiencing or his realization of the gravity of the situation. His mouth opened, lips forming nonsensical words as he finally looked straight at the other boy, not knowing what he would say, but feeling impelled to speak nonetheless. But the moment that he stared into Shikamaru's dark eyes, dilated with confusion and shock, he felt something snap.
"I… I-I have to go," was his rushed and mumbled statement as he hurriedly turned away, shoving his belongings with reckless abandon back into his backpack before Shikamaru could stop him. Then, before the other boy could reach out for him, he bolted up on shaky legs and all but ran from the room, breaths finally coming in shallow pants and chest painfully tight.
Shikamaru watched dumbly as his desk was cleared in a flurry of motion. He was momentarily distracted as a loose sheet of paper was swept off, threatening to give him a nasty papercut, and Kiba must have taken that second to escape behind him. For once, Shikamaru wanted to say something, anything, but 'Hey, Kiba—wait!' wasn't leaving his throat. The other boy all but raced out of the room, and Shikamaru turned much too slowly to catch sight of his door swinging shut with a cringe-inducing bang.
Wanting to collapse, he slumped over his desk, cradling his head in his arms and squeezing his eyes shut. He tried to will away the thudding in his head by taking a few deep breaths, but even after doing so, he didn't feel much better. His heart still jumped unhealthily when he recalled what happened, brought back the feeling of Kiba's dry lips against the corner of his mouth—no. He scrunched his eyes up even tighter until white spots began to dance before his vision, trying to block out the thoughts from his mind. He did not want to think about his best friend kissing him, but, at the same time, he knew he had to—needed to somehow make sense of it. And fix it.
Finally, Shikamaru opened his eyes, watching little white sprites flitting across his vision as he turned his head to the side, resting his cheek against his forearms. From this angle, he finally noticed a lonely pencil sitting out of place on his desk: a pencil that did not belong to him, because this one was wooden and he was far too lazy to sharpen those. As Shikamaru stared at Kiba's forgotten pencil, he let out a heavy sigh that blew his irksome bangs off of his face momentarily. Figures. Ironically, he had gotten the pencil in the end.
Shikamaru pursed his lips slightly as he regarded the yellow menace. Then, shutting his eyes once more, he mumbled into the silence of the room. "How troublesome…"
Yes, he definitely should have spent the energy getting a second pencil.
-TBC-
A/N: Do not expect a swift update, for Futago no Seishi and LilPurplFlwr are busy individuals who have no time to sit down and RP. LilPurplFlwr will soon be leaving the country for a couple of months and Futago no Seishi has to work to support her starving ass. To give you guys some indication of how long it takes us to put something like this together, we've been working on the second part of this on and off since last November. Yeah. But we love Shika and Kiba, so we persevere… sort of.