Linger
Summary: She is the first one to leave. OneShot.
Warning: drabble-ish, rated T
Set: story-unrelated
Disclaimer: Standards apply.
A/N Sepsis, auf der Suche in meiner FF-Bibliothek bin ich über diese Geschichte gestolpert und habe wie blöd angefangen zu grinsen. Ich hatte sie fast vergessen! *lach* Aber ich liebe sie sehr! Ich hoffe, sie gefällt dir auch.
Traditional roles are reversed.
She slips from the bed in the early hours of dawn, when the birds outside only have begun to raise their voices. The mattress shifts and the thin bed creaks, the covers are lifted and cool air rushes in only to be pushed away as the covers fall again. She hesitates a second and then pulls them up to cover him completely. It is a gesture he cannot understand entirely, not when looking back on the past months and on their relationship, but it is just as well. Shikamaru takes in every sound with closed eyes and does not move.
Instead, Ino moves around the room with all the stealth and silence a trained ANBU possesses and – he squints through half-closed eyes – with the elegance of a kunoichi. Only there is more to it. This is Ino and he can see the difference between her and every other kunoichi, can see the world between her graceful movements which yet convey nothing but practicality. She picks up her underwear from where it fell the night before. Her skirt – the one she only wears when she's definitely off duty, because Ino hasn't worn a skirt since she joined ANBU four years ago – is next to the door, her top somewhere in the corner. He gets the feeling he should feel guilty about the mess - about the whole situation - but cannot sum up the energy to do so. And, besides, it is not like his clothes are laid out ironed and neatly folded beside the bed, either.
For some time, she disappears in the bathroom. Shikamaru imagines her brushing her hair quickly, washing her face, using the toilet. He does not know her usual morning routine but he knows her and because she does not take a shower he guesses she will do so immediately after she returns to her own apartment. The water flushes and the door opens with a soft click and he can smell her scent, still mingled with his. He can also remember the feel of her skin. The curve of her neck. The soft flesh of her shoulders, her swollen, red lips, her sweet breasts. Her low whimpers and her glowing eyes.
He remembers everything.
Soft, silent steps pad over to the bed in which he still lies unmoving and Shikamaru closes his eyes. He can feel Ino's gaze on him and breathes evenly and deeply. His skin tingles at the memory of how well their bodies fit together, of how perfectly they aligned. Seconds – minutes, hours – pass and then he hears her footsteps move away again. The sound of her feet on the carpeted hallway loses itself in the soft birds' chimes in front of his window. Some rustling is heard, some time passes. Then, his door falls shut.
Shikamaru is alone again.
Without moving, he remains in bed, breathing in the scent of her perfume that still lingers on his skin. He remembers the way her body was warm and pliant, the way his hands touched her last night. The way he kissed her. She is barely gone and he already misses her with an intensity that scares him. One night and it feels like forever and Shikamaru wants to chase her, wants to bring her back and fall asleep again, Ino safely in his arms.
She leaves him like he is nothing more than a one-night stand.
Okay, so this is his apartment. He cannot simply get up and leave his own place without making a complete fool of himself. Still it would have been nice if Ino had attempted to talk to him first. The first sunrays creep into his room and Shikamaru knows he could just as well get up right now. There is no way he will fall asleep again. He is not even tired. He blinks, his eyes wide open, and does not move.
…
Some people would say he was lazy. Shikamaru just wants to hold on to her presence that still lingers there.