A/N: My very first ShikaIno fic, sort of inspired by the film Before Sunrise. It's only the premise that's similar though, because the dynamic between these two is quite different from the one we see in the film of course :) Lots of love and hugs and pretty freckled boys to Clorinda for reading this over and suggesting this lovely title, even though she's not remotely into this fandom.

Enjoy!

one.

Seven minutes.

That was the length of time that had passed. Ino crossed her arms and glowered at the magazine spread out on her thighs.

Eight. That had been the number of times she'd thumbed through it, and the number of times she'd concluded that there was absolutely nothing in it to tickle her fancy.

The fashion section? So amateur. Cars? Boooring, once you'd drooled over the photographs and moved on to the technical gibberish. A special on flower arrangements for home decor? She could have whipped up a better job than that when she was five. Blindfolded.

God, she thought as she stuffed the magazine back into the flap she'd taken it out of, she was so bored. Honestly, who forgot to charge their phone before a four-hour train journey through the countryside? Sunny, picturesque Italian countryside yes, but there were only so many times you could coo over the quaint cottages and flowering hilltops that kept flying by.

A vision of Sakura violently flapping a list of travelling essentials in her face floated into her head.

'I'd better not hear about you missing anything out, I took actual time out of revision for this!' she'd trilled, and Ino had rolled her eyes at her from the treadmill.

She felt a sudden twinge of guilt. Sakura had had an exam the very next day. Not that the brain behind that overlarge forehead would've had any trouble coping with the loss of the few minutes it had taken her, but Ino supposed it was the thought that counted.

Yeah, she decided with a slight shudder as she remembered the maniacal glint in her friend's eyes as she'd stormed back to her anatomy notes, slamming the door so hard the drink balanced on the handrail of her treadmill had swivelled dangerously. She is so not hearing a word about this.

With a sigh, she turned her head to the window and mused: in the month since she had seen Sakura last, she'd missed the girl too.

When they were younger, it had been Ino who'd helped Sakura find herself when she was all out of sorts with no clue how to carry herself and look cute and talk to boys. But now that they were adults, renting a flat together ten minutes from the university where Sakura studied medicine and Ino interior design, she could grudgingly admit to a dependence on Sakura she'd developed herself.

Her stay abroad for the prestigious exchange programme her department offered had reminded her of that, too. Several times in the midst of shopping splurges she'd almost imagined Sakura's firm hand on her arm, attempting to tear her away from the store. Or the sound of her knuckles cracking when drunken guys at clubs started getting especially handsy.

Of course, Ino was more than capable of taking care of herself, even though she'd always been rather spoilt. What instances like that did reaffirm, however, was her pride in how Sakura had grown from the bullied and self-doubting child she'd been.

Like the flowers she tended to back home, except considerably more capable of landing you a black eye.

The train emerged from a tunnel just then, into a vineyard stretching in every direction as far as the eye could see. A bubbling river had joined the side of the rail tracks, sparkling in the gentle Italian sun. Ino checked her make-up in the glass and turned back to the compartment.

Hold up, alarm bells rang out in her head suddenly. Hold up just a second.

Bruised, battered or bleeding, there were a few things Yamanaka Ino could spot anywhere. The perfect hair salon, the perfect pair of heels, the perfect shade of red lipstick…

Target sensed. Moving in. I repeat, we are moving in.

Her eyeballs began to carefully retrace the path they'd just travelled. A railing, the edge of a table two seats down, a cup of coffee, a laptop…

… And the most gorgeous guy you could hope to find sitting just a few feet away, facing you, on a boring train journey through the countryside with your phone out of battery.

Ino hugged herself and sat up a little straighter, barely restraining the whoop of delight that threatened to escape her lips. Peering avidly across the empty seat just in front of hers, she proceeded to study the guy.

He seemed to be around the same age as her, nineteen or twenty at a stretch. Pale skin, dark hair spiked at the back, and the sexiest dark eyes glaring intensely at his laptop screen.

She let out a quiet whimper.

All right, so he was pored over his work to the point that he seemed quite dead to everything around him. And maybe – just maybe – he sort of possibly gave off the vague air of being a dick? It only enhanced the sexiness though, Ino thought to herself as a smirk spread across her face.

She always did enjoy a challenge, after all.

His long, slender fingers were tapping swiftly away at his keyboard, and she clutched the edge of her table unconsciously as she watched.

Damn, she thought, what else were those talented fingers capable of? And that lush, pale mouth, that sliver of tongue peeking out just a bit…

…and a few wisps of dark hair that had swum suddenly into her line of sight?

She blinked. They didn't go away, though. Instead they rose and rose before her bewildered eyes till they had acquired the form of a rather oddly shaped pineapple.

Ino took a few moments to assess the situation. She could see two options here: a) she had in fact been transported into a sexiness-induced state of blissful delirium, that was causing her to hallucinate, or b) there really was a person occupying the seat between her and said sexiness, perhaps possessing that pair of shoulders emerging over the back of the seat?

Hell no, she shrieked internally, slamming her fist into her palm with all the force of a Yamanaka Ino deprived of the opportunity to ogle a hot guy. Oh hell no.

Before you could say Jimmy Choo she had dived into the seat on the opposite side of her table. Turning her head to the side so that her voice would carry over the top of her chair to reach the pineapple, she hissed, "Hey!"

But the pineapple made no response.

"Hey, mister!" she whispered a little loudly. She thought she heard a soft snore. Seething, she rammed her elbow into the back of her seat, hoping it would carry through the plush cushions.

It did. But what ensued was a louder snore, and the owner of it straightened up for a second, only to flop his head sideways and resume his nap.

Ino gritted her teeth and brought her mouth right next to his ear. "Look, whoever you are," she muttered. She thought she saw the object of her efforts look up from his work out of the corner of her eye, and quickly turned fully around to flash a saccharine smile at him. (False alarm.) "I'm asking nicely, do you mind moving a bit?"

Still no answer. Ino sighed. Then she noticed that the snoring had stopped. Small victories, she supposed, and opened her mouth to repeat herself.

That was when the owner of the oddly shaped pineapple hair started to move. Too surprised to say a word, Ino drew back and stared as joints cracked and long limbs rolled and stretched and slowly unfolded into a man.

The man stepped out of his seat and walked the few paces it took to reach the seat where Ino herself had been sitting a little while back. He was tall, and there was a strange grace about his movements despite his slouching shoulders.

Sitting down, he folded his arms on the table and let out a deep, heartfelt sigh. "Listen, woman," he drawled. His hair was drawn up into a ponytail at the top of his head and his eyes drooped at the corners, but were sharp. "I wouldn't have bothered in any other situation, but you happened to ruin my nap. This is all so troublesome… Ah, now, how do I put this? The man you were trying to look at is gay."

"Excuse me?" Ino squawked in disbelief. "Just because he's well-groomed and prettier than you—"

"… And has a picture of a blond man kissing him on the cheek as his phone lock screen?"

Ino's mouth snapped shut.

Great. Abso-fucking-lutely brilliant. The nerve of this woolly-headed weirdo, she thought vindictively, to just stare calmly out the window after dropping that bomb as if he hadn't just crushed all her kinky little fantasies in all of five seconds.

She glared at him, sensing a tantrum about to come on. She knew the signs well. Her father had spoilt her rotten when she was a child, and old habits died hard. Crossing her arms, she turned to look sulkily at the window as well.

When the endless flocks of sheep grazing in the fields they were passing started to get to her even more than the prospect of facing the annoyance across from her again, she turned around.

Cheek propped up against his palm, he had fallen asleep again. Ino raised an eyebrow. She hadn't really expected him to be still sitting there. Her eyes trailed over his broad shoulders and the defined collarbones half-visible under his shirt. He was skinny, but well-muscled in places. His jaw was sharp and his half-parted lips were moist, and holy shit was she actually checking him out?

Leaning over the table, she snapped her fingers in his face. One eye popped open, then the next. "Oh," he said lazily, suppressing a yawn, "It's you again." His eyelids began to descend again.

"Don't even think about it," said Ino grumpily. She got to her feet and stalked off towards the bathroom. The 'you'd better not be here when I'm back!' remained unspoken.

Except today was just not her day because when she returned, he was still sitting there. In the exact same position too: cheek on palm, face turned towards the window.

When she stormed over to sit down opposite him, she found that his eyes were open.

"What are you still doing here?" she demanded.

"Watching clouds," he replied serenely.

He must have read the sentiment in her eyes – are you for real? – pretty accurately, because he went on, "I didn't even fall asleep this time. It's a far bigger bother to be so rudely woken up by you every time."

"Rudely?" Ino repeated shrilly.

He winced. "Do you make it a habit of speaking at that pitch all the time?"

"Do you make it a habit of imposing your company on people when they clearly don't appreciate it?" she shot back.

"But I just came here," he sighed, as though he'd just run three marathons.

Ino gave up. Shaking her head and huffing an exasperated laugh, she looked out of the window. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him watching the clouds again.

Perhaps she had been a little too harsh on him. It wasn't like he was being obnoxious intentionally, after all. That was just the sort of thing that came with informing a girl that the beautiful guy on the train with her was more interested in the contents of his boyfriend's pants than hooking up with her in the bathroom for a steamy make-out session.

Yeah, she realised, replaying the conversation in her head, her words had definitely been unwarranted.

It was her turn to wince. Yamanaka Ino was fabulous, not your common garden-variety bitch. Not only had she stooped to that level, she now had to apologise to this oddball too.

She eyed him again. He seemed to be around the same age as her as well, but he had the air of an old soul about him. She could picture him listening to Lou Reed with a cigarette dangling between his fingers, pored over a lengthy game of chess. Slumped over his knees with terrible posture, but watching the board with clever, calculating eyes.

She gave herself a little shake. She was thinking way too much about this. Maybe she could engage in a spot of polite conversation with him, just to have him know that she could be the bigger person here.

After all, he was the one who had just intruded on her personal space with no sign of moving his ass on the horizon.

"So," she said, attempting a stiff smile, "Do you look for… shapes of things in the clouds when you watch them?" It sounded lame even to herself, but at least it was a start.

He looked at her suspiciously for a moment. Then he seemed to conclude that required too much effort and said, "Why would I? Too troublesome."

"Wow, that is your favourite word, isn't it?" said Ino.

"It's helped describe most of the situations I face in my life on a daily basis, so yes, I do find it quite convenient."

"You're probably a pathological lazy-ass, ever heard that before?" said Ino. She couldn't take this guy seriously anymore.

"About three times a day."

Ino laughed. She couldn't help it.

"Hey," she said suddenly, something catching her eye through the window. "That cloud up there… it kind of looks like your hair. All spiky and pineapple-y."

He turned to look. Flopping his chin back down on his palm, he said, "Why even bother with that? The beauty of clouds is that they don't have to be anything… or do anything. Just floating along, living the life."

His expression had turned wistful, but Ino wasn't really paying attention. "Ooh!" she cried, caught up in a sudden wave of childlike excitement as she pointed at a fluffy layered cloud low in the sky. "That looks like it could be me? In profile, with my hair loose… there's even a bump that's shaped just like my nose!"

"Useless," muttered the man.

"Excuse me?" said Ino crossly, whipping around to face him. "Who's being the asshole now?"

"I never called you an asshole," he sighed, motioning conciliatorily with his hand. Ino was at a loss to decide if his seemingly endless supply of calm and patience was quite remarkable, or really annoying. "And the reason it's useless is because it's impossible for a cloud to even come close to capturing your face."

He was looking at her steadily as he spoke, and she felt her face burn.

Shit shit shit, she thought, faking a coughing fit and ducking behind her hands to hide her blush, who was this guy? A pathetically lazy bum who could be infuriating one second, and blatantly flirtatious the next?

And not just regular flirtatious, he'd just made her blush without even innuendo of a sexual nature. That was what you called an achievement.

Well, maybe he didn't realise he was coming across that way. That did seem likely, given his general attitude to life. Normal social cues were probably too troublesome for him to bother with them.

She withdrew her hands and laid them on her lap. He was reclining in his seat, arms crossed behind his head. His eyes were shut again.

"How do you even manage to get anything done when you don't seem capable of staying awake more than five minutes at a stretch?" Ino couldn't help asking. "I mean, you are a student, right?"

He opened his eyes. "Not really," he answered, and reached into his pocket. He was so unwilling to move that it took him a while. Eventually he pulled out a small card and held it out over the table.

Ino snorted when she saw it. She knew he was lazy, but honestly: too lazy to tell her where he studied? Carrying it around written on something that looked like a business card? Ridiculous.

She reached across and took it in her hand. She read the writing on the card. Then she blinked, and read it again.

"Er…what is this?" she asked, laughing nervously. "It says… Nara Shikamaru, CEO of Nara Electricals. Um… is that your dad?"

"My dad died three years ago," he said.

"I'm… sorry," said Ino gently.

He nodded. "He left me his porn collection… and his company."

Ino gawked at him. "You're joking, right?" she said. "You can't be much older than I am."

"I'm twenty-one."

"You were eighteen! Who'd let you head a company?" She'd heard of Nara Electricals, of course. It was the biggest electrical company in all of Japan. And this lethargic lump was implying he'd been running it for three years?

"It's made life a lot more troublesome than it was, but I did have all the qualifications necessary," he said with a grimace. "There was no point delaying it."

Ino laughed. "Okay, look… Nara," she said.

"Shikamaru," said the man. Ino got the impression that he couldn't tell she was Japanese too, and knew how Japanese names worked.

"Right… Shikamaru," she said, feeling a little awkward to be on first name terms with him already, even though they'd been sitting together for at least twenty minutes now. "I know you think I'm some sort of blonde stereotype, and I'd love nothing more than to drill the truth into your head with the pointy end of my heels, but as you say… too troublesome. So all I'm going to ask is, you really think anyone is dumb enough to buy what you say? Qualifications enough to run a company as big as that by the time you were eighteen?"

"I don't remember ever being told I'd have to prove myself to an annoying woman I'd meet on a train to Florence, but if you're really that bothered by this information, Google it."

"Fine," said Ino irritably, "I will." She reached for her handbag, and suddenly remembered her phone was out of battery.

"My phone's out of battery," she admitted a little sheepishly.

With a drawn-out exhalation, Shikamaru brought out his phone and handed it to her. When she took it from him, their fingers brushed for a second. Unexpectedly, a jolt of electricity ran through her.

As quickly as she could, she brought her hand and the phone with it to a safe distance from the unfamiliar sensation. Fingers still shaking slightly, she swiped the screen awake, opened the Internet browser and keyed in Nara Shikamaru.

When the searches loaded, she ran her eyes down the results. Snatches of text caught her eyes: child genius… incalculable IQ… graduated business school at 17… CEO of family company after father's death, aged 18…

She opened a good five links in different tabs. Once she had read enough, she swallowed and took a few deep breaths to steady herself, not looking up from the screen.

Okay, so he was a genius. This guy… this unbelievably lazy weirdo sitting opposite her on this train was a genius. A literal, 200-plus IQ genius who commandeered one of the most powerful businesses in Japan. That happened, right?

Sure it did.

It was no big deal. Not to Yamanaka Ino, who won local flower arrangement contests and beauty pageants and the chance to go on prestigious exchange programmes to Italy.

Nope.

With this in mind, she looked up at him and handed up back him his phone. "Pretty impressive," she said, then made a face. "You have drool on your chin."

The gifted CEO of Nara Electricals wiped off the trail of saliva that bore testimony to his many napping attempts, and fixed her with a curious stare. "You are even more troublesome than the average woman, you know that?" he told her pensively.

Ino snorted. "With charm like that, who needs pick-up lines?"

"Well it's not like I'll be needing those anytime soon, either way," said Shikamaru with an expression of distaste.

Ino bit back a rather inappropriate remark about certain areas of the male anatomy that were probably too lazy to stay up long enough. "A genius and a saint?" she laughed instead. "Hold on, where's that ring I need to propose with?"

"It's a waste of effort," Shikamaru told her, shaking his head leisurely. "I'll choose a girl when the time's right for marriage, not before that. Why trouble myself unnecessarily with women until I have to?"

"Well thank you for that, sir," said Ino, staring at him in disbelief. "That isn't offensive at all."

Shikamaru made a pained noise at the back of his throat. "It's not like that," he said. "Women are confusing, okay? They're bossy and demanding and half the time you can't tell what the hell they're really thinking."

Ino smirked. "Oh look at you, Mr. Prodigy, stumped by the eternally elusive equation of tits and heels. Messy break-up?"

"Hardly," said Shikamaru. "Observing my own mother was quite enough for me to reach that conclusion by the time I was seven."

"And what conclusion is that, oh genius child?"

"That I'm better off with an average girl, one who isn't too ugly or too pretty. The pretty ones are too complicated to deal with, and the ones who aren't are too self-conscious. Man, I just want a life free of all that—"

He paused, because Ino had started to laugh. In a loud, rather maniacal way that had several other passengers turned around to look at her.

As abruptly as she'd started, she sobered up. "You've spent the last half hour dealing with me, Nara Shikamaru, which category do you place me under?"

She felt a stab of satisfaction as he started to look uncomfortable. "It's not that like that," he said again, "It's only—"

"Save it," said Ino sweetly. "Actually, the only thing you need to tell me, Mr. CEO, is how long you will be staying at Florence when we get there?"

Shikamaru gave her a calculating look. She tried to not to think of the way it made her heartbeat escalate. "I'm staying till tomorrow afternoon," he told her, still looking suspicious, "When my flight leaves for Japan."

"That's perfect!" cried Ino. "I'll be there till tomorrow morning because that's when my flight back to the States leaves." She leant a fraction forward over the table, blue eyes large and innocent. "We'll be reaching Florence by one in the afternoon, do you mind giving me a tour of the city after that? I mean, you must've been here before, on business things for your company! Only if you're not busy, though."

Shikamaru was back to looking the picture of discomfiture. Ino decided she quite enjoyed that look on him. "I'm… not busy," he grunted at last. "And yes… I have been there before."

"Awesome!" Ino squealed, settling back in her chair and clasping her hands dreamily. "Oh, I've always wanted to properly see Florence. I study interior design, you know, and I'm fascinated by their architecture."

Shikamaru nodded slowly, still looking quite unnerved.

Inside, Ino's maniacal laughter had started up again.

Some girls weren't worth the trouble of falling in love with eh, Mr. CEO? Well, she'd show him. In a matter of hours, she'd leave him with no choice but to fall in love with her, and she'd show him.

"My name is Ino, by the way," she said. "Yamanaka Ino."

She always had enjoyed a challenge, after all.

tbc

Please review to let me know what you thought, and if you think it's worth continuing. Thanks!