a half pack of cigarettes
wherein shikamaru stalks, sakura goes on her usual verbal rampage, and ino is an ignorant and accidental cupid.
He watched her settle into the seat and arrange her things in meticulous order in the table in front of her, noting the precise, practiced movement: books first, in the top right corner. Papers next, placed facedown, horizontally at the topmost part of the table, and a multitude of colored pens in between the space made by the books and the papers. Bookstand, diagonally placed at the left. The topmost book was opened to page 423—it seemed she had finished reading roughly a hundred pages from the last time he saw her.
Shikamaru smirked, and took out his half-pack of slims from the inside of his jacket pocket. He fished out a lighter from his pants pocket and proceeded to light the cigarette. He took a deep breath and blew a thin wisp of smoke from the small 'o' his mouth made. He was quite pleased with himself. It was the fifth time that he sat in this specific seat outside the fast food chain, and he was satisfied with the not so covert glances that she was shooting him and the cigarette he currently held trapped between his teeth. Just one more day, and she'd be approaching me, he thought. I'll see you tomorrow, Sakura. He finished the half pack and threw the butts into the nearby trash can, sliding a glance towards the girl who answered him with a furious glare, raised his hand in a brief wave, then left.
Right on time. Shikamaru thought, fingering the still unlit cigarette in his hands. He watched as she stood up quickly, almost toppling over her chair, and stalked outside the store…right to the table where he was. He played along, lighting his lighter and allowed it to ascend slowly towards the cylinder of tobacco now clamped between his mouth. He waited, and—
she stomped in front of him, snatched the cigarette from his mouth, threw it to the floor, and stepped on it none too gently, moving her foot left and right for good measure.
—right on time, again.
He took a split second to void his face of amusement and looked up at her. He wasn't even able to open his mouth when she opened hers and started a quiet, albeit venomous tirade, "I don't know whoever you are, but I think you should know about the hazards of smoking. You could have lung cancer, physical deformities, or more. And what about the second-hand smoke? You are a walking disaster for all of your friends and family! How many sticks do you smoke every day? No, wait—how many packs? You've been sitting here, for what, six days already? And for all of those six times you polish off half a pack of slims! Did you know that one cigarette stick makes you lose ten minutes of your life—What?"
She finally stopped. Shikamaru took in the flashing green eyes and the nearly red face, and repeated the earlier inquiry that had been drowned by her endless harangue: "So you counted the times when I was here?"
She spluttered, and Shikamaru was momentarily engrossed with the way her face turned deep, deep red.
"I-I-I did not count!"
He raised an eyebrow.
"Fine! I did! B-But that was just because you're a threat to society!" She looked away, and he admired the way the tips of her ears looked raw, and the way her neck turned a shade darker than the pink hair that was a centimeter away from kissing her shoulders.
"Look at me," he told her, and she did.
He was now openly smirking.
She harrumphed at him and stared at a point about an inch from the top of his right shoulder.
"Come sit with me."
She snorted and turned to him again, her eyes narrowed, "Didn't you hear a word I said earlier? About secondhand smoke?"
"I haven't started yet. You've still got my first smoke"—he motioned to the floor—"under your foot."
"So? You've still got the rest of that half pack, don't you?"
He chuckled slightly, "You don't miss a lot, don't you?" he asked her back.
It was her turn to smirk at him, "I don't."
He held up both of his hands in mock surrender, all the while grinning at her, "Fine, fine, here, I'm giving you the half pack. Here's my lighter, too, if you want it. Just come sit down with me."
Her eyes were narrowed at him again, and she plucked the two offending items, flounced to the nearest trashcan and shot them in, before sitting down with a huff, her hands folded in front of her.
"I'll quit."
She turned to regard him with a look of disbelief in her face, then stopped short at his serious look. She blinked at him, then seemed to regain her composure. "That's good, then," she remarked a bit haughtily.
"On one condition."
She inclined her head at him.
"I'll treat you to dinner."
She blinked again. And again. He was still looking at her seriously.
The blush was back with a revenge. It was all he could do not to smirk triumphantly.
"Only if you promise to seriously quit."
"I promise."
"Yo, Shika-chan, why did you call me for dinner on such short notice, I was doing laundry, you know, and you know how rarely I do tha—Oh, hey, Forehead! You're here! You've met? But how—Wait, what is this all about?"
"Yeah, Shikamaru, what is this all about, and why do you know Ino?"
Shrug. A sheepish grin. A scratch at the neck.
"You didn't have the time to meet me, and I was curious about her best friend. I've heard a lot of things about you, and I needed a face to go with the interesting personality."
"…"
Realization. A sly grin.
"What he meant to say, Sakura, was that he was so interested in my many stories of you that he began stalking you. I think he likes youuuuuu."
"…!"
A look of disbelief.
A shrug.
"Wasn't that already obvious? I mean, I quit smoking for you and all."
A mouth hanging open.
A cackle of glee.
"This is so pretty! Two of my closest friends getting together!"
"…"
"…"
An exasperated smile.
A quick kiss.
"AWWWW!"
"Shut up, Ino."
"Pig. You need to leave. We need privacy."
Smirks.