"Damn it, Chouji. . ." Shikamaru's face screwed up and he bit his lip as he delicately picked twisted metal shards from the gash laid open across Chouji's shoulder. There was a smaller wound angling over his cheek and jaw, but fortunately it had not cut so deeply, and Shikamaru had already removed the few splinters of steel that had lodged in it.
"Why- Ah." Chouji winced, and Shikamaru brushed a hand over his forearm - bruised, but no open wounds there - in apology. "Why are you cursing at me?"
"Do you have to ask?" Shikamaru made a frustrated sound. "You charged- The way you stepped in back there you're lucky you didn't die!" he snapped. He cleared his throat, then took a breath, steadying himself and flexing his fingers before reaching for the next tiny spur of metal. If he ever met the ninja who had come up with this exploding, shredding chakra wire and fracturing shuriken attack Shikamaru had words for them.
And maybe a nice walk through one of their own traps, led by shadow manipulation jutsu. Shikamaru breathed out harshly through his nose. Steady, he told himself.
"I didn't have another choice." Chouji said, wincing a little and extending his arm helpfully further as Shikamaru pressed as gently as he could at the edge of the wound, encouraging a longer shard to come free of his flesh. "I had to do something."
"You could have waited and followed the fucking plan." Shikamaru hissed, looking up to glare at Chouji as soon as he had discarded the piece of steel.
"There wasn't enough time." Chouji said with a weak little smile. "It wouldn't have worked any more."
"I would have thought of something." Shikamaru said fiercely, wiping away the blood running down Chouji's arm. He trailed his fingers gently over whole, but bloodied, skin, looking for more twisted metal splinters that might have struck Chouji and lodged in his body. That was his job, to come up with the plan, and to keep it working when things went wrong, and he couldn't do that if his friends were- were- Shikamaru set his jaw and breathed slowly, focusing on it. Steady.
"Your brilliant head has to be in one piece for that." Chouji said, bumping his knuckles lightly against Shikamaru's hand. He looked up and Chouji smiled weakly at him again. "I had to help you, Shikamaru." he said softly, with not a shred of doubt.
"I-" Shikamaru's mind had seized on the image of Chouji charging in before him, shielding him, and being swatted away - being all but blown up in the centre of that exploding trap, dragging the enemy nin in and down with him - and had busily proceeded to work out what could have happened, what could have gone even more wrong, in vivid detail since. "I would have been fine." he said flatly.
"I couldn't take that chance." Chouji said peaceably. "Not when I knew there was something I could do. To help you."
"Something you could do and risk yourself." Shikamaru said, his voice low and fierce, fingers tightening around Chouji's forearm. He let go again before he could aggravate any of Chouji's scrapes or bruises and bowed his head a little.
Chouji reached up tentatively, the weariness that was visibly weighing on him from the battle and his wounds combining with uncertainty, and brushed his fingertips over Shikamaru's cheek. "Don't you know, though?" he said softly.
Shikamaru tilted his head slightly, and Chouji's fingers slid over more of his face. "Aa?"
"I-" Chouji pinked, though not much, perhaps more because of how much blood he had lost than anything. "Shika, I would do anything for you." he said sincerely.
"Chouji. . ." Shikamaru blinked.
Chouji ducked his head, shifting away a little, with a small wince, and looking at the dirt near his knee. "I'm sorry." he said softly, and Shikamaru scowled.
"Sorry?" he returned, a little more sharply than he'd intended. Chouji looked up at him with wide, startled eyes. "Sorry?" he repeated.
"Yes, I- I know you don't," Chouji swallowed visibly, "but I couldn't-"
"You're not sorry you nearly got killed saving me but you're sorry to tell me how much you care about me?" Shikamaru snapped, his voice growing steadily louder. There were a few traces of his mother to be found in him, after all, even if mostly they weren't obvious.
Chouji's flush deepened a bare shade more as his mouth dropped open. "I- Shika, I'm sorry, I don't-"
"You- You-" Shikamaru growled and ducked his head, covering his face and huffing as he ground the heels of his hands against his eyes. "What do you think I would do if you died, Chouji?" he asked thickly before he moved his hands away and looked up again.
Chouji didn't answer, shaking his head slightly, and Shikamaru reached out, catching one of his hands and moving closer to Chouji without rising from his knees. "You- You big-hearted idiot." Shikamaru nearly flung himself to lean against Chouji's chest, looping his arms around Chouji's shoulders and tucking his head down.
"Shika?" Chouji said softly, wrapping his arms carefully around Shikamaru's waist. He shuddered, tightening his hold on Chouji, and he stroked Shikamaru's back comfortingly in return. "Are you okay?"
Shikamaru thought that Chouji had no idea what it was like inside his head, the way possibilities played out, vivid and inescapable, and instantly knew that he didn't want to push it onto Chouji, either. He didn't need to know that. Not ever.
"You're all right." Shikamaru said instead, taking a breath and pushing back the images of what might have happened before he lifted his head. "I'm okay. I'm just-" he paused, eyes narrowing, and Chouji winced a little. Shikamaru sighed. "Troublesome. . ." he muttered. "I would do anything for you, too, Chouji." He tilted his head up, moving quickly, and gave Chouji a soft kiss. "Anything in the world."
His eyes widened, and his hands tightened a little on Shikamaru's back. Shikamaru patted his shoulder and then settled back, reaching for his wounded arm again.
"Shikamaru?" Chouji said softly, though he gave up his arm again and let Shikamaru do as he wanted without protest. "You. . ." His voice was faint and there was a bit of confusion showing in his eyes.
Shikamaru sighed again and twined his fingers with Chouji's, raising their linked hands to his chest, cradling them almost against his collarbones. "I love you too, Chouji." he said simply.
Chouji's fingers tightened around Shikamaru's. "You-" he faltered.
"Let me finish bandaging this mess." Shikamaru scolded, running his thumb down Chouji's arm near the raw edge of the largest gash. "If you do insist on throwing yourself in to catch wounds on my behalf, at least let me help you afterwards." He huffed, dabbing away another drip of now-drying blood before beginning to wrap Chouji's injured arm.
Chouji fidgeted and surrendered to Shikamaru's care, still faintly pink and looking a little shocked. It would be endearing if it didn't bother Shikamaru so much, how little Chouji thought of himself.
Tying off the end of the bandage, Shikamaru leaned up again and kissed Chouji, softer and more lingering this time. Chouji smiled, nuzzling gently back and returning the kiss.
"I do love you." Chouji said in a tiny voice.
Shikamaru smiled crookedly at him and nodded. "I've been waiting for you to catch up." he said, and Chouji startled. "If I'd known you were going to do it by nearly getting yourself killed for me I would. . ."
Chouji caught both his hands, squeezing gently, and Shikamaru realised he was trembling.
"I would do it again, if you needed me." Chouji said, and Shikamaru slumped suddenly. He wasn't surprised, no, but he also wished he could never see Chouji do anything like that again. ". . .waiting, Shika?" Chouji asked, tilting his head.
Shikamaru thought of the kids they had once been together and the way they had each grown to always put the other first, meshing their lives naturally. He smiled slightly and didn't say anything to explain. "Oh, you know me." He shrugged.
Chouji grinned. "I do." he said, expression clearing.
