Disclaimer: Don't own anything D:

A/N: First of all a HUGE thank you to my beta Katsuyo. We have gone through some rough times and I'm glad that she was able to take time to do this for me. I love you to pieces Beautiful! ^_^ 3 Thank you for everything you do.

Secondly, for my followers of Territorial – don't worry, it's coming back. Working on it. This one-shot was written a while ago and I wanted to get it out since it was finished.

Please feel free to leave a review, I really appreciate them.

I hope you enjoy~

Finding Out

Shikamaru woke up alone in bed.

He didn't even have to stretch his arm out to feel the empty space behind him to know that he was gone. Perhaps it was the lack of warmth against his back or the missing hand that would have been resting on his naked hip…

The jounin slowly rolled over onto his back and stared out the skylight above. It had been his birthday gift last year. Simple really, the design circular in shape, not much bigger than his queen size bed. At first he had complained loudly that it was going to let in too much sunlight but his partner just snorted and told him to sleep with the blanket over his head.

Shikamaru didn't really understand the gift until a few days later when the temperature reached scorching and he flopped down on his bed, deciding it was too warm to venture out. It was then he realized that he was able to see the clouds from the comfort of his room.

For the first time, Shikamaru had felt dumb.

It was such a simple gift that he had overlooked its deeper meaning. He always seemed to miss the obvious when it came to the other man. Needless to say, he had to admit to his lover that he had been wrong about the appropriateness of the gift and then show his appreciation for such thoughtfulness.

Shikamaru continued to stare out the skylight. It was still too early for sunlight to spill into the room but it was light enough that Shikamaru was able to make out the blue-gray clouds.

"Altostratus," he murmured, watching the puffy parallel clouds slowly roll by.

He duly noted that it was probably going to rain later that day, meaning he should attempt to get all his rounds done before the storm started but he remained in bed.

His fingers itched to slide across the soft cotton sheets to where his lover would have been. Any other day, his fingers would discover hard muscles and warm scarred skin. Shikamaru's favorite scar to touch was long and thin, from beneath the armpit to just above the hipbone. It was a sensitive spot, depending on the situation and it could either have his lover writhing under his touch or punching him for daring to tickle him.

Shikamaru smiled but it quickly disappeared when his hand involuntarily stretched out to feel the cold sheet next to him.

Why did he always do that?

He knew that the other man was not in his bed but yet he always sought to verify it. He always hunted by touch first. A part of him always hoped that he was wrong and his fingers would curl under his hand as they met solid flesh.

The jounin wasn't sure if he liked the way his stomach twisted in a knot when he woke up on days like this. It certainly wouldn't get better when days went by without word from his partner. Being a shinobi himself, Shikamaru knew that missions could drag on for months but knowing what he knew, only made his stomach hurt worse. It was like he couldn't breathe until his other half returned safely.

Shikamaru liked logic and patterns. It was something he could always count on but emotions? It was a whole new game to him and he had yet to figure out the perfect strategy for it. However he did know that as soon as the mission was completed and his lover returned, his stomach would feel better. He would learn to breathe all over again and strangely he would feel ten times more attached.

Until his return, however, Shikamaru's days would be hell while he focused on controlling his restlessness. He would go about his duties, take missions if need be, and attempted to live as he did before the other man ever approached him.

Against all rationale, Shikamaru glanced over at the empty space next to him.

"Troublesome…"

For once, Shikamaru absolutely hated the slow, lazy crawl of time. What was only three weeks seemed to be months. He was having a hard time focusing on his job and responsibilities even if just the thought of his lover entered his mind for however briefly.

Those moments would creep into his day, sending icy chills down his back. It would always start as a prickling sensation in the back of his mind, followed by unreasonable fear…then the pounding would start. The first time it happened, Shikamaru thought he had pushed himself too far with his workout but when his heart refused to slow down, he had to meditate for an hour in order to feel somewhat normal.

But when the moment of fear returned, so would the pulsations.

Thankfully, since their house was settled nicely on his family's land, Shikamaru didn't have to worry about running into anyone except for when he turned in paperwork. He was constantly walking aimlessly around his clan's holdings…anything to keep his mind off not knowing if he was safe or if he would return at all.

He had thought about playing Shōgi by himself or having someone else come over… but he couldn't bring himself to even look at the board, which now sat alone on his porch. Just thinking of the game would bring memories of his lover.

To be honest, the other man was horrible at the game. Shikamaru had to constantly remind him of the rules. In the end, there was no real challenge in playing against him since his strategy never changed. Shikamaru always knew the quickest way to win was to counter attack every move instead of defending his king, bringing down his lover's defenses and effectively leaving him open for check-mate.

But when they played, Shikamaru found himself intentionally drawing out the game for hours or at least for as long as his lover's patience held up. It was not because he wanted to make the game easy but because he secretly loved to watch his lover's face. The way he would scowl when a general was taken. The way his eyes narrowed in some silent vow for revenge later. Not only that, he would pout and glower more when he lost, which Shikamaru found incredibly sexy. Sometimes he even received an arrogant but rather seductive grin when the other man thought he had the upper hand.

Shikamaru had to admit that that's what fascinated him the most about the other shinobi. How easily he displayed his emotions, how quick to temper he was. He was completely irrational and impulsive while it took careful consideration before Shikamaru decided to do anything. Options had to be weighed and evaluated first and foremost. The shadow nin was so unlike his partner with his sharp tongue and crude manners.

And yet… he was drawn towards the man.

After eight weeks, Shikamaru was smoking again. Each day that passed by was turning into the longest time period they had been apart-

No, he corrected himself.

There had been longer times but they were more like business trips concerning village politics and treaties but the frequent correspondence had helped him cope with the lengthy absences.

More importantly, Shikamaru had known that the other man had been safe… relatively. Shinobi were never truly safe but reading the letters (even if their spelling was atrocious) had helped to keep his nerves from overthrowing his usually controlled manner. This time, however, he had no idea where the other had went. He just woke up one day to find all of his shinobi tools and gear gone. It was only logical for Shikamaru to conclude that his lover had a mission.

Shikamaru sighed as he stretched his arm up to the top shelf of his closet, hand searching for his hidden carton of cigarettes. His fingers curled around the box but there must have been something else in the way because as soon as he slid the cigarettes forward he managed to knock a few things off.

When the worn padouk music box his mother gave to him as a child hit the floor, Shikamaru had a moment of panic. His mother would have his head if something else happened to what she considered a family heirloom. Not to mention Shikamaru would have felt just as sad if not angry since he was quite attached to it as well. Cigarettes forgotten, he carefully picked up the plain box that was probably about fourteen inches long and five inches high. The stained wood didn't look anymore scratched than it already was but he still held his breath when he opened the lid.

To his relief it started to slowly play Oyasumi, one of his favorite lullabies as a child. For its simple exterior the interior was more complex and even confusing for him. Instead of one simple comb with teeth to produce simple songs it was layered with multiple. It was so complicated, even for Shikamaru, that when it broke years ago he had no idea how to fix it.

Of course when his lover moved in and found the box Shikamaru didn't really pay attention when he asked if he could try to fix it. It was far too intricate with over one hundred notes and Shikamaru wasn't even sure if the spring-housing was still attached. Three hours later he was listening to a lullaby he had thought he would never hear again. For all his faults, the man could fix almost anything.

Shikamaru stood there for a while listening to the tiny teeth reproduce individual notes when a flicker of apprehension coursed through him from out of nowhere.

What if there is was no mission? Is this his way of saying that the relationship is over?

Startled hurt turned into white-hot anger and Shikamaru abruptly shut the lid and shoved the box back on the top shelf.

If their relationship was really over then… Shikamaru sneered and forced himself to banish all thoughts.

Grabbing his cigarettes, he headed towards the front door. He felt like a drink tonight.

Three months later and Shikamaru found his anger growing. He hated to admit that he was pining for his lover's return.

If only he had gotten a mission…at least then he would have had a distraction.

His foul mood grew when his heart started to skip beats each time he thought about anything related to his situation. He tried to imagine what he would do if he really didn't return… if he died or left him. Shikamaru had experienced a horrible moment earlier when he declared that he rather the other man dead than actually facing the fact he was dumped.

"What the hell?" Shikamaru rubbed his face remembering it.

What kind of reasoning was that?

Standing outside his house he lit up a cigarette.

He really had to stop acting like some jilted lover. He inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet burning in his throat.

"You know, that's a horrible habit."

Shikamaru felt a tremor travel through his whole body as surprise and relief poured into him in a suffocating crash. It took everything he had not to start coughing.

Despite his anger, Shikamaru felt a hot and awful joy build up in his chest. He wanted to toss his hurt aside but stubborn pride demanded that he stay composed. It didn't help that since his lover was obviously unharmed and back that his mind finally stopped its fretting, leaving him mentally exhausted.

There was a chuckle behind him and Shikamaru suppressed a shiver as calloused fingers slid under his shirt to rest on his hips.

"Fuck Shika, I missed you," his voice was low and smooth.

Shikamaru inhaled smoke again. He had no intention of giving into the hands that were slowly caressing his hips or the lips were teasing the back of his neck

"You could have left a note," he said, cigarette clenched between his teeth.

The lips on the back of his neck stilled, hesitating.

"I left one on the shōgi board."

"What?" Shikamaru whirled around to meet confused umber eyes.

The shadow nin walked to his right where the shōgi sat abandoned and alone. Right under a silver general was a folded piece of paper.

Shikamaru stared.

"I … didn't see it…"

"You didn't play shōgi for almost six months?"

There was amusement and puzzlement in his lover's voice.

Again, Shikamaru felt dense.

"I didn't feel like playing alone," he replied and gave his lover an accusing look.

The larger man frowned as he studied Shikamaru's face. His eyes narrowed as he took in the shadows under Shikamaru's eyes, the way his shoulders refused to relax and the most minuscule tremble in his hand when took his final drag.

"Is that what the problem is?"

Shikamaru stepped back into the shadows of the porch, searching for the semidarkness to hide the flush that burned his face.

"You could have left it in a more conspicuous spot," Shikamaru said, his voice harsh and raw.

There was a disbelieving snort from across the porch, "What's more conspicuous than Nara's shogi board?"

Shikamaru gritted his teeth, "The goddamn kitchen table."

Shikamaru had enough. If all his lover was going to do was stand there and mock him after all this time-Shikamaru almost made it into house before he felt himself jerked backwards. Annoyed, he glanced down, glaring at the faint glint of chakra lines around his waist.

"Kankuro…" he said in warning.

Kankuro growled, "No, you're not going to run and hide in your shadows…"

He tugged again and Shikamaru stumbled closer.

"Dammit Shika," Kankuro sighed exasperated, "How was I to know you weren't going to play the fucking thing – I don't think so."

Kankuro twisted his fingers making the strings wrap around Shikamaru's wrists stopping him from forming any hand signals.

Shikamaru glared, feeling his barriers crumbling. It just wasn't fair that he was the one who had to worry the entire time just because he didn't see an ill placed note. The fact that it was there the whole time did nothing to erase all the anger and worry he felt, in fact, it kind of made it worse. A lot worse.

"Let me go," bit out Shikamaru, giving Kankuro a cold stare.

"No."

Shikamaru was inches away now.

"I'm serious."

"When are you ever not?" Kankuro replied sarcastically, his left eyebrow raising a fraction.

The puppet nin withdrew the strings and brought his hands up to cup Shikamaru's face.

"Look- I'm sorry you didn't see the note. It didn't really say much anyways just that I had a mission. It's over now."

Kankuro watched the play of emotions flicker through those dark eyes.

"Easy for you to say, for all I knew you left me."

Kankuro looked at him with a scowl, "What?"

Shikamaru's bit his lip until it throbbed like his pulse before answering, "I don't want to talk about this now."

"Like hell we aren't. Why did you think I left you?" Kankuro rubbed his temples in frustration.

Shikamaru let out a tired breath, "I don't know."

"Shika-"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit!" Kankuro growled.

"I was scared alright?" Shikamaru nearly yelled, "I was worried you would return to me dead or not at all. I guess it slowly evolved into you leaving me. Every time I thought of that damn shogi board just made it all worse so I haven't even looked at it… I hate it when-"

Shikamaru forgot the rest of his sentence when Kankuro tugged him forward and kissed him hard. It was meant to rough and punishing but all the frustration from being away for so long ignited their embrace.

For Kankuro, it had been the worst time of his life. He used to always mock shinobi who rushed home after a mission. Kankuro liked to take his time getting back, relax at a hot spring or maybe at an inn. But, as he found out, he couldn't wait to get back to what he now called his home. Back to losing every damn shogi game. Back to waking up early and watching Shikamaru sleep for hours.

Back to this, he thought, lips moving to kiss Shikamaru's jawline.

Kankuro had seen the vulnerability in the shadow nin's eyes. It was rare when Shikamaru let his emotions get the best of him. Most of the time, it was Shikamaru that had to calm him down and explain away his unfounded fears.

Kankuro pulled away, "You're mine," he breathed, his breath hot against Shikamaru's ear.

"So, don't fucking think for one second I'd die on you – let alone leave you. I was gone too fucking long, don't make me stay away longer." Murmured Kankuro as he pulled Shikamaru closer.

Shikamaru leaned forward, pressing his nose against the hollow between Kankuro's shoulder and neck.

God…he missed him.

As casually as he could manage, Shikamaru sighed and said, "Welcome home."

"Next time," Kankuro said, the corner of his mouth turned, "I'll make sure to leave one hundred notes…"

"Thanks," came the sarcastic reply.

Kankuro laughed and went in for another kiss, "Idiot."

"So I'm finding out."