Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto or the characters in this plot! If I did, the show would be rate triple X, and there would have been at least two miscarriages, one engagement gone wrong, and at least twelve sex scenes. And a half cat/ half human mutant with a tail, who would undoubtedly take a long shower. And Sasuke would be having nosebleeds left and right. Kabuto would have died long, long ago. Tsunade would have smaller boobs. And Lee would 'accidentally' have his eyes gouged out with a chopstick. Oops. And then be dipped in hot oil. Which I CANNOT find. Gr.

Naruto: I found the hot oil!

Me: MWAHAHAHAHAH

Everyone else: Kitty, back away from the oil very, very slowly.

By the way, Akira is a boy's name. I cannot have Asuma's kid being a girl.

The first time he had ever seen her cry, ever noticed that the façade flickered and cracked, was on a mission. Tsunade had sent them out to promote diplomatic relations, and they were ambushed. A squadron of Cloud nin, about a dozen, appeared out of the treetops and attacked, regardless of the fragile peace treaty binding the Five Shinobi Nations together. They beat them back, slashing winds and lurking shadows working in sync as a deadly duo. One last struggler threw a final kunai and landed an unlucky hit; one long gash, splitting cream colored skin from thigh to ankle.

As she lay slumped against a tree trunk, bleeding out precious life blood, a lone tear slipped out, and she was too busy pressing his shirt against her leg to stop the bleeding. He stepped away from the final Cloud corpse, and squatted down to her level, fascinated. His eyes were drawn to the tiny glimmer of water trickling down her cheek. Some urge told him to poke it; it took all of his will power to resist.

"Why-why are you crying?" As the words left his lips, they sounded harsh and apathetic to his own ears, and for a quick second, she looked like he had slapped her. The moment past as quickly as it came, and she still had the strength to smack him on the head.

"Because I'm hurt!! Idiot!" She snarled and snapped at him like an injured wolf, and new tears of frustration and pain sprang to her eyes. She rubbed them away, and he pouted on the inside. We had wanted to watch them, to stare at this strange miracle. But instead, he wheeled his eyes. And waited.

And that was the first crack.

Yet another crack appeared on her mask, equally unexpected. He was at the hospital in Suna, just being discharged for a strained wrist. She was sitting in a chair in the waiting room, knees pulled up tight against her chest. There was the smallest hint of black lace poking out from her dress, and he hauled his eyes up to her face. She eyed him suspiciously, daring him to question her presence. He didn't. She nodded to the seat next to her, and he sat gingerly

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm scared."

She lowered her dark blue eyes worriedly. "Kankurou took a hit from a poisoned shuriken. He was showing one of his students how to work with puppets, and the stupid kid's puppet hit him in the stomach with the thing. So he's got internal bleeding and the poison's spreading through his system, and…and I…" She buried her face inside the shelter of her arms, and a soft sniffle squeezed its way out. Tentatively, he put an arm around her shoulder, ignored the way her whole body tensed at his touch, and let her lean against his chest.

And that was the second crack.

The cracks were small, but becoming more and more frequent. He wasn't completely sure if they had always been there, or if this was a new girl, a new Temari that he would have to adjust to. And he wasn't so sure that that might be so bad.

She saw the cracks in him too. A crack from the Sasuke retrieval mission, for when his sensei died, and another for when Kurenai joined him in eternal sleep. At twenty, he had suddenly been saddled with a reason to come home every night.

Aside from her. But no one ever said that, not because she wasn't ever there when he came home. But because it didn't need to be said.

She watched him falter and stumble on new obstacles. He almost, almost, made the mistake of moving back to his parents' house, so little Akira would have some sort of family. When he told her his plan, she almost killed him right then and there. He still could hear her words, angry and stubborn.

"No! No way in hell!" she raged, "I will not let you go back to your parents. You're an adult; act like one. That kid deserves better than some second rate loser that would just give up when things go difficult. I swear I'll take him with me if you so much as step out that door! Got it, lazy ass?!"

He nodded numbly, and unpacked the suitcases of clothes. She watched him throw out all the boxes and nodded primly with a satisfied smile set on her face. Akira ran around her ankles, and she picked him up with a grin.

"See darling? You're not going away without me, you hear that, baby?" Akira smiled and blew a bubble. Shikamaru poked his head in the door.

"'Course not." A pause. "Baby." Temari glared at him and threw a shoe at his head. He ducked and grinned wider.

"Oh darling, don't be so embarrassed." And she threw the other shoe.

One warm evening, the last traces of the mask slipped to the ground and shattered. She was scared and hurt, tight shoes pinching off the circulation in her feet. He didn't look so ruffled. Like this sort of thing happened to him everyday. And she was crying. She had lasted all day, through the thousands of pictures, through the shoe pains, through the awkward speeches from both of her brothers. But when they stopped at the door to the house, she completely lost all control. And he wrapped her in his arms tight, giving her a small squeeze to make sure nothing was as bad as it seemed.

"Hey. Look at me." He tugged her chin up and brushed away a few last tears with his thumb. "Why are you crying?"

She slapped him again and smiled through her tears, linking their hands together, like they had been only hours ago.

"Idiot. I always cry at weddings."