Inspiration came to me while doing exactly what Shikamaru does in this chapter-Eating ice cream outside on a hot day.
Still not sure of the pairings, but later on I'm definitely bringing in the Sand Squad later(If you've read any of my other stuff, you'll know I simply can't write a story without Kankuro in it XD), and Naruto also makes an entrance around chapter 3.
Shikamaru sighed as he closed the door to his small country house, taking off his dusty trainers as he moved fluidly through the rooms until he reached the kitchen. It was the type of room that you'd typically see in catalogues that sell furniture and things like that, covered from floor to ceiling in what his mother called, "knick-knacks," and what his father called, "useless junk." Of course, since his mother said they were knick-knacks, that's what they were. The wallpaper was a tan-ish color, printed in a floral pattern that was also too often seen in catalogues. There was an old-fashioned gas stove, a really old refrigerator, and hand-stitched things that said little sayings like, "home sweet home," and "home is where the heart is," and other such things involving home.
And it was Shikamaru's home, for as long as he could remember, he'd lived in the old country house in… well, the country. Nothing but grassy fields and dirt roads and the woods and the creek that ran through them. There were no school busses, as it was a small town, and in fact, the school was in the next town over.
Which Shikamaru walked to. Every. Single. Day.
And walked back from. Every. Single. Damn. Day.
But despite that, Shikamaru loved the house and the town and the wide open fields and the wide open skies that came with them, and how the deer that lived in the woods would sometimes plod up to you if you were quiet enough and still enough for a long time, hoping for a treat. He loved everything about it, even though he had no real friends outside of school, but who needs them? Friends lead to conflict, and make-ups and break-ups and other things too troublesome to even list. Shikamaru didn't need friends. He had the deer and the clouds and the fields and the creek.
But his parents were still trying to make him leave all of it behind.
They really expected Shikamaru to just leave everything he loved behind, in favor of the noise and the people and the hard, grey, treeless streets of the city. He couldn't imagine life without the sounds of the peepers and the chirping of the crickets and the soft babbling of the stream, and the creak of the old house settling. He couldn't fathom a reason to leave the smells of the sweet summer grass, of pies baking, or even the smell of the attic, which was musty yet so undeniably familiar to anyone who came across it, even if it was their first time in one.
Especially not when the beautiful sounds would be replaced by honking and yelling and sirens and actually hearing your neighbors talk through the thin walls of an apartment complex. Not when the only smells would be that of litter and smoke from God knows what rolled up in some junkie's mouth. No, the city life was not for him.
He sighed again, taking a container of ice cream out of the freezer. Homemade ice cream, not some processed thing with glucose and crap like that that you can get from any store, but ice cream that someone had actually taken the time and effort to stir around and around for hours. You couldn't do that with the hostile hustle and bustle of city life clawing at the back of your mind.
He scooped himself a generous serving of the sparkling white treat and put the container back into the freezer. He then went back out the front door, staring up at the rest of the house as he walked through it, as if it was the last time he'd ever see it. And, as he had to painfully remind himself, it might just be the very last time. When it came to his parents, you could never know.
He opened the door, careful not to spill any of the frozen treat. He plopped himself down at the picnic table in the middle of the spacious front yard, within clear view of the long dirt driveway that, it being late May, was now nothing but a pale dusty strip in between a field and the yard. The field was covered in wildflowers ranging in color from yellow to purple, and every color in between. Attending to these were a number of fuzzy fat bumblebees, shiny, fierce-looking dragonflies, and of course a marvelous array of brightly colored butterflies that were so attracted to the flowers. And, if Shikamaru had been looking hard enough instead of staring off into space wondering how he could live without all of this, he would have seen six or seven blue butterflies fluttering around a mess of light brown hair poking up out of the grass, and the twitch of a purple skirt as a dragonfly landed to rest its wings on what appeared to be a perfectly round hill just right for that sort of endeavor.
But he wasn't looking, and soon after he sat down, he began to realize just exactly how hot the sun made the seat of the picnic table, and how bright the glare from it was in his hazel eyes. He sighed for a third time, and stood up, picking up the bowl as he did so. He walked sedately across the lawn until he reached the edge of the house, and then settled down in a corner that was not only untouched by the sun at this time of day, but was in perfect range of it in the morning, which meant that the dark green grass formed a soft, sweet-smelling cushion for him to stretch out on.
After he had finished the ice cream and laid the empty bowl an arm's length away from him, he yawned and placed his arms across his chest. Before he knew it, he was dozing off to the sounds of a lazy summer afternoon…
And waking up to the sounds of pots and pans clattering.
He stirred upon hearing the clamor, and it took a few seconds to register that the noises were coming from inside the house. He picked up the bowl and stretched, then raced around to the front door. It was wide open. That was odd. His parents never left the door open. And he was sure he closed it when he'd gone out.
He cautiously stepped into the house, moving quickly but silently, a skill he'd picked up from the deer in the woods while watching them one day. He heard another loud crash, and a muffled cry. His heart started beating faster.
He peered around the corner of the door, heart pounding in his ears…
"You stupid, fat little…" a slim girl with long blonde hair who wore a purple skirt and a black tank top was hissing at a boy with spiky brown hair with a green jacket and a pair of jean shorts. Neither of the two had on shoes, and upon close inspection, Shikamaru noticed that their clothes were patched and worn, and the boy's jacket was torn in many places.
The girl was obviously talking about the clattering of pots that had woken Shikamaru up, the evidence of which was scattered across the floor of the normally spotless kitchen. The boy was looking at his feet, and with every word the girl said, cringed as if hit. The girl raised her hand above her head, and Shikamaru realized she was holding his mother's frying pan in it.
He gasped loudly as she brought he pan down on the boy's head, resulting in a noise similar to the second one he'd heard upon walking into the house, followed by the same cry coming from the boy. The gasp, unfortunately, was too loud, and both turned to face him.
"See what you did, lard ass? You woke him up! Now we have to get rid of him and find the cash before someone else comes!"
Thieves! There were two people robbing his house!