What is Mine
Summary: As heirs the boys didn't have the right to marry or court each other, but everyone knew it was there.
Disclaimer: I'm heart broken! I am a girl! Kishimoto-sama's a boy! I just finished reading my birth certificate: I'm not Kishimoto Masashi! DAMNIT! Wait...that's okay, I have pocket lint! Therefore I can not be sued, can I? Can I? Hello?
Pairing: Shikamaru/Chouji
Chouji sat in quiet contemplation, chubby hand idly stroking the package of chips but leaving the content alone. He sat under the pavilion and watched the rain beat itself weakly upon the trees, foliage, dirt, stone, and the pavilion itself. It was a disturbed mood that made him wonder how many rainfalls, how many months, seasons, and days had to pass before the rain conquered this particular view.
The pavilion was within the Akimichi clan quarters which had an open side facing the Nara clan forest. To Chouji's amazement a great stag weaved along the tree-line. The horns were easily a meter and a half high, seemingly larger than the beast himself. It was an allusion Chouji knew, but one that always brought a small, jealous smile to the boy's lips. The stag grazed for a good thirty minutes before ambling away.
A sharp whistle startled the round man's reprieve, "Hey, Chouji, you see a stag wander this way? Fucker took off before I could get his antlers. Pardon my language."
Turning at his waist Chouji strained over his shoulder as Shikato emerged from a different part of the Nara compound. Grinning and giving a curt wave Chouji pointed in the direction said stag took off in. The older man rolled his eyes and tipped his head back.
"Missed him by about three minutes, Shikato-ji-san," Chouji informed his 'uncle' proudly. Shikato rolled his eyes again and groaned. His Jounin vest had been altered to accommodate the tools necessary to sheer horns and hooves. A large cameo fanny-pack peeked out from underneath it. The older man cursed loudly, and this time he didn't beg pardon.
"Just enough time to pull a disappearing act. Hey, son, do me a favor and take my lazy-ass boy out of the house. Preferably before Yoshino brains him," the tall, skinny man demanded before jogging after his fleeing prey. Chouji smiled weakly and hollered an affirmative. Stuffing a chip in his mouth Chouji mulled over where the two could possibly go. A tea house would be best he concluded with a nod to himself.
The warm beverage, comfy benches, and maybe a shoji game or two to pass the time and channel the discussions simultaneously began to sound really good to the portly young man. Stuffing the package into the pocket it had come from Chouji stood, indolently wiped the crumbs off and ambled over to 'rescue' his friend. Where as Chouza, Chouji's father, and Shikato had been raised since diapers so too had their sons been raised.
Enjoying the mild strain the walk gave and ignoring the wet season weather Chouji reached his destination in a lazy seven or eight minutes. The house was reminiscent of the feudal era of six hundred years previously despite having been built roughly six decades ago. The Akimichi heir enjoyed that little architectural detail, even if Shikamaru claimed it was inaccurate in certain areas. Mainly the porch, windows, and foyer were more modern in design.
Knocking on the door the portly man rubbed the pocket with his precious chips. If he listened attentively he could almost hear Yoshino screeching around. A minute shortly and the door slid back where the hassled house wife smiled. At first it was strained in manners before relaxing into something less demonic when recognizing her guest.
"Hi ma'am, is Shika-kun around?" Chouji inquired politely even if he knew the answer. Although he was very close to Shikato, Chouji was down right terrified of the older man's wife. She was a centimeter or two shorter than the Akimichi heir, with waist length ebon hair and a sharp, elegant face but the temperament of a bear on crack. An extremely cranky bear on crack mind you.
"Of course, come in, come in. That boy's in his room avoiding chores; again," the woman spoke coldly as hell-fire flared in her brown eyes. Chouji gulped in apprehension, "And I'm sure that bum of my husband sent you to bail him out. Wait here I'll go get my son."
Fidgeting in the foyer Chouji watched the little lady literally stalk up the stairs. A little time anon and Shikamaru flew down the flight of steps at a medium trot. His mother, fortuitously, was not dogging his step. Grabbing the skinnier mans jacket Chouji and Shikamaru made a fast retreat before the moody house-wife changed her mind. Calling out a parting comment the two raced off to town.
"Thanks," Shikamaru said. Their hands fumbled for each other, found its counterpart, and held on tightly as the rain poured forth. Quietude befell the two from years of tacit support as they made for Konoha's famous Tea Avenue near the heart of the village.
Sensing a shift in the others mood Chouji looked at the man whose physiognomy was so much like his father. Tall, dark skinned and a lithe frame curved in a lackadaisical position that reflected their lazy-ass persona. In contrast Chouji was only built like his father, but resembled his shy mother in both trait and gene. He had a light auburn-red hair versus his father's flaming color and his mother's soft brown eyes; but still built like a sumo-wrestler as his father's ancestors were.
"Hey, aisuru," Shikamaru began taciturnly. His voice was a low rumble having broken quite nicely into something lower, more sultry than his youth. Chouji raised an eyebrow and squeezed his hand in reassurance. "What do you think about getting matching tattoos?"
"As long as it's not terribly corny, I don't see why not. The symbolism I mean."
Chouji corrected himself. They both knew they couldn't be obvious tattoos. As heirs the boys didn't have the right to marry or court each other, but everyone knew it was there. They both desired to stake a claim in each other and glare at anyone who even thought about the other boy; something that was Shikamaru's biggest struggle.
"I know," Shikamaru spoke quietly, blandly, and still Chouji knew his lover had an idea. With a stillness of long time friends and lovers, Chouji squeezed Shikamaru's hand once before they lapsed back into silence. They skipped over the Tea Avenue and continued to another part of the village where they got their own small permanent markings for each other.
It was nothing grandiose or audaciously obvious; just a small red infinity symbol inked into the bottom of their thumb that naturally embraced the others. For Chouji, it was his right hand and for Shikamaru it was his left hand. When held together they matched perfectly; lovingly; eternally; and no one else had to know.
CR~
Well, this is my first story that I am uploading and I am very curious to see the response. I did this alone so all mistakes are mine. For all who are interested in most future Shikamaru and Chouji stories that follow a canon timeline, this story will probably be part of the foundation but not necessary to read.