Old habits(they die hard), and old rules(follow them, always follow them).
There's always a line to not cross, an expression to not show-a thought to not voice. It's become a challenge, a game(a game with rules, specific rules)-who will break first?
Not him. Not her.
And if neither of them breaks, the game will go on forever.
Right?
"-has it been?"
"Huh?" Shikamaru had totally spaced out, somewhere around the time that the blond girl next to him had oh-so-carefully teased out his hair tie, tracing her fingers through his black strands in a slow, hypnotizing way.
Temari huffed in frustration, rolling her eyes and shifting how her elbows rested on the pillow besides his head. "I asked, how many years has it been?"
"Since when? The beginning of the world? The origin of the villages? The birth of cell phones?" he rambled, deliberately pushing the limits of her patience.
"Since we started-this." She declined to name whatever "this" was, though they both knew what she was referring to. Somehow, it irked him that she wouldn't even give "this" a proper name; though as to what that name would be, he had no idea.
It was all too much of a hassle to think about, anyway.
Shikamaru shrugged and stretched his arms over his head, accidentally knocking her hand away from his hair. Temari rolled onto her back, stealing the sheet from over his chest to cover her own. "I was just trying to remember," she said, sounding put out. Even when he wasn't trying, he knew he annoyed her. He thought of it as his special power.
"Why? What's the point?" There were swirling knots in the wooden, slanted ceiling. He traced them idly with his eyes. It was almost as interesting as cloud watching, though the sky was ever-changing while the ceiling was the same whenever he looked. He was so absorbed in this that he really wasn't paying attention to Temari.
She shot him a glare. "Whatever. Just making conversation."
"The last time I checked, we didn't do conversation." Conversation inevitably led to arguing, which led to separate bedrooms, which led to wasting precious time when neither of them were satisfied. They had agreed(one of the few things they had agreed)a long time ago not to subject themselves to such torture. It was better to focus on things other than talking. That was one of the rules.
"It's an innocuous question." Temari defended herself.
"Well, I can't remember the answer." he replied, belligerent. She smacked his shoulder.
He glared. "What was that for?"
"Being you."
He rolled his eyes, and bit back a comment about how women never made sense. She would be leaving soon, anyway, to sneak back into the room that she was sharing with her brothers during this conference; he would only have to put up with her insensibilities for a short time more.
To humor her, he pretended to consider the matter out loud. "Well, the first time was . . ." He didn't actually remember the first time, but was banking on the fact that she would assume that he did and, needing to know more than him at all times, interrupt him to say it first.
"Right after I saved your ass." He was never more glad to be right. He could hear the smugness in her voice, the pride, even after so many years, that she had gotten one over him that time.
"Which time?" He had learned to stroke her ego, a reversal of the normal roles in a relationship-but "this" wasn't a relationship. That was a rule, too. He had also learned that telling her that strong women were totally unattractive to him would lead to more fighting. At any rate, she was an exception to that rule. Now, any woman who wasn't Temari was totally unattractive to him-but mentioning that would be a complete faux pas. He didn't even want to admit to himself that nothing but her body, her hair, her voice and thoughts and reckless personality had the ability to stir anything in him.
She rolled her eyes, groaning, not buying into his flattery. His words were too clumsy, too slow; and she never had the patience to look beneath them. Even when he was complimenting her, she took it as an insult. "The first time, moron."
He knew lots about Temari; he knew how to kiss her so that she would shut up, and that he should never, ever, under any circumstances grab her ass, unless he was looking to get pitched out of bed. He knew that she liked to be in charge, which suited him just fine, and he knew that she was surprised-in a good way-the few times that he took initiative. He knew, even, how to charm her if he really tried, and he knew what she looked like when she was about to shove him into the nearest room for a booty call. He could tell, from across a crowded room, if she was out of her mind with boredom; and he knew what she was thinking as long as she was thinking about sex. He understood her analytical brain as well as he did his own, and there was no battle plan or strategy that she could come up with that he couldn't follow.
But none of that helped him solve the mystery that was the essence of her bizarre mind. None of that gave him an insight into her reactions or thoughts in everyday life; she was as likely to kill him as to kiss him, leaving him in the dark, for the most part, about what he had said that was either charming or irritating. How could someone live with a woman like that?
"That would make it nearly three years, right?" Shikamaru said, instead of all of the other thoughts running through his head. Saying any of that out loud, he was sure, would get him into trouble.
"Off and on," she replied. It was more off than on, in his opinion(but his opinions were never asked for; that was a rule). "Question time." She folded her hands on his chest and rested her chin on them, teal eyes wide with(debatably)innocent curiosity.
"Another?" he groaned. "What's with you and the talking, today?"
She would be gone soon. She always left within ten minutes of finishing with him. That also was a rule. He reminded himself of this while trying, without success, to not be hypnotized by bare skin, perfumed hair, and pretty eyes, to be tomfooled by sharp wit and a sharper tongue. Since those were the things that had reeled him in in the first place, he didn't expect to have much luck.
"Just one," she pressed.
He had a sinking feeling about this. Of all the things he knew about Temari, the foremost was that she did not do "innocent". She had never been-and never would be-innocent. He had the sneaking suspicion that she had a hand in almost every bad, annoying, or troublesome thing that ever happened to him. He wouldn't be at all surprised to find out that he was right. Temari was devious, clever, curvy, untrustworthy, and completely mesmerizing. She was totally dangerous, totally overbearing, and entirely not his type. He had no desire to repeat the mistakes of his forefathers; yet something stupid inside of him kept jumping in bed with her at every opportunity.
Her questions scared him.
"What is it?" he asked warily. Girls never had innocent questions. They asked questions to trip guys up, make things complicated, and, more often than not, make themselves cry.
"In the past three years, have you ever had a girlfriend?"
See, that was exactly the kind of question he didn't want to be asked. It was a trick question if there ever was one-to answer no would give "this" more weight than she wanted, to answer yes would make her angry(he somehow knew that without a doubt). To answer no would make him pathetic, to answer yes would make him a player. And, the worst part was, if he didn't come up with an answer in the next second-and-a-half, she would immediately assume the worst.
Whatever that was.
She was breaking all of the rules. She was talking, she was waiting for his opinion, she wasn't leaving, and she was asking about girlfriends.
Even no strings attached, Shikamaru realized, came with a lot of strings.
Which all lead back to his conclusion that women should have never been created-the sly, manipulative, entrancing creatures.
He frantically racked his brain for any solution, any way to give a nonanswer that she wouldn't immediately see through.
"Uh . . ."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Y-es . . ." he started, slowly. He could practically see the violence rising up behind her eyes.
"I'm with her right now." he blurted out, which, of course, broke the most important rule of all. He had given "this" a label.
Shikamaru was 100% sure that this was the last time he was going to be attached to his more precious parts. Thoughts of the harm that she was about to put to him made his blood freeze solid and his heart, contrastingly, burn with panic.
Temper flared in Temari's eyes. She moved towards him. He tried not to flinch(showing weakness would make things worse-she had no mercy).
And then she kissed him.
She kissed him?
"It took you long enough to admit it," she muttered. She nestled down tighter beside him, making it absolutely obvious that she was not going to be leaving. Her next kiss made her intentions clear.
Oh.
Well then.