title; of summer days
prompt; back in the day
pairing; chouji+ino
requested by; overlordofnobodies
notes; I had to make a few twists and changes, of course, but I hope you're happy with it.
Chouji leaned back, rocking back onto his heels, and watched his wife bustle around the kitchen.
She moved with the grace of a feline, snatching cooking utensils from various shelves, and sprinkling herbs into a simmering soup. A roll of bread baked in the oven, until it was a crispy golden colour. It looked nice, he admitted, and it was exactly what he needed after dealing with such temperamental clients. Although he was slightly saddened Ino had given up her ninja career, in favour for working as a medic during the day, he was happy she was out of danger.
And always there for when he returned from work.
"That smells great, and I'm starving. D'you want me to invite Shikamaru and Kurenai around?"
Ino jumped, twisting around and glaring at him. "You snuck up on me. Again," but her expression softened, and she walked briskly over to him. She snaked her arms around his waist, pulling him to her, and smiled. "How was your day?"
"I've got a migraine; the woman who hired us wanted to find her missing husband, only to realize that he was already dead. No matter how many times Shikamaru told her, she was adamant he was alive."
"She wasn't convinced by a gravestone?" Ino giggled, kissing his forehead fondly.
"She informed us that it was an imposter," Chouji sighed dramatically, before stroking her cheek with a calloused hand. "How are you? Another busy day?"
"I'd like a child, Chouji," Ino smiled, and her eyes seemed almost glazed over. "I helped a woman give birth. And it was the best bloody experience I've ever had the chance to experience. When can we have a bundle of joy added to our family?"
Chouji laughed. "You know I'd do anything for you."
"I've always known."
[and her words trigger memories that he'd thought he'd forgotten, even though they were so important and precious]
-
-
"Be brave, Chouji. She doesn't want a coward. This is definitely your moment," Chouji murmured quietly to himself, clutching a bundle of plain white lilies in his sweaty hands. He stared at the door, took a deep breath, and then knocked gently on it.
From inside the Yamanaka household, there was a flurry of noise. Ino's loud, brash voice sounded first, as she fought her way towards the door; Inoichi warned her, in the same kind voice as normal, that if it were a boy, he'd skin her alive.
"…just going to be Shikamaru or someone!" Ino shrieked back, and Chouji winced inwardly— only Shikamaru?
He wasn't sure if this was such a good idea.
The door swung open, and Chouji found himself face to face with the girl of his dreams. She was panting heavily, and kept scowling back over her shoulder at her father; he waved happily at Chouji, before disappearing back into the house.
Ino was beautiful, even when she was disheveled and sweaty; in fact, she was best then— he loved watching her train. She would concentrate so hard, her cerulean eyes firm and cold, and she would attack with everything she had— at times, even Shikamaru found it hard to fend her off. Beads of sweat would trail down her pale skin and her clothes would cling to her body; and whenever she stretched, the clothes would clutch against her breasts, and he'd turn a furious red.
And, being the true gentleman he was, he'd look away.
Far, far away.
"Hey, Chouji!" Ino's curious gaze snapped him out of his memories. "Who are those flowers for?"
"Uh…" He stammered, before thrusting the lilies towards her. She raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at her lips— "there for you, of course— I, uh, found them on the step and thought they were for you, so… maybe someone got them for you…" He trailed off, trying to look cool and collected, but failing miserably; how could Ino not notice the bright blush across his cheeks?
"Well, I should definitely thank whoever bought them for me," Ino said, matter-of-factly. "I do love lilies, after all. If they were here, and they were right in front of me, I'd stand straight and tall—" Ino stood up straight. "—and I'd lean forwards—" She leant forwards, until Chouji could smell her perfume and her face was directly in front of his. "—and I'd give them a thank you kiss."
She pressed her lips against his burning cheek, gently, and he marveled at how calm she was—beautifully so.
"Just like that!" She finished, before tilting her head. "But, since that person isn't here, I can't thank them properly."
Chouji bit his lip, smiling bashfully, and then raised his hands in mock surrender. "Oh, alright; I give up— you've found me out, again. It was me," and he couldn't meet her eyes as he spoke, because she was just too perfect.
Ino placed one hand on her hips, leaning slightly on her left leg, clutching the flowers closely to her chest, and laughed. "You're such a goof sometimes, Chouji; but a good goof, if you know what I mean."
He let out a soft chuckle, fidgeting slightly, shifting from foot to foot. He definitely couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye; it was like one of those impossible romances his mum liked to read about in books— the same ones which made her sigh pitifully and gaze all gooey-eyed into space.
The type of fake, story-book romance which could never happen.
"Are you going to stand there, staring at my shoes all day, or would you like to come inside?" Ino asked, cutting across his thoughts; he wrenched his eyes from the ground and nodded, embarrassed, before meeting her smile with one of his own.
He followed her inside, trying his hardest not to stare at the sway of her hips and the curve of her butt— and, besides, he could feel Inoichi's dominating stare on his back; he was certain that behind that calm, deep voice there was a merciless father waiting to tear him apart. Too lost in his own thoughts, he almost walked past Ino's bedroom— he managed to halt just before it was too late and turn sharply into the room.
He loved Ino's bedroom— it suited her perfectly. She'd painted it white recently; just a pure, plain white; and had hired professional artists (mainly herself, Sakura and Hinata) to paint different swirls and patterns and decorations on the backing paint, in a midnight black. Her furniture was black and her bedcovers were black; the desk was white, and her chair was a deep purple— perhaps the only splash of colour, if it hadn't been for the fact that Ino was one of the messiest people Chouji knew.
And, boy was she messy.
Pants, bras, socks, t-shirts— and was that the skirt she'd spent ages saving up for? Expensive shoes lay tossed aside, the heel broken off them, and crumpled dresses were similarly discarded; but that didn't mean Ino didn't care for her clothes.
The clothes on the floor were those that she considered 'not right'.
Her wardrobe was one of her most prized possessions; it was filled with what Chouji considered designer clothes, made by only the best, as well as training gear made from the best material. Her parents were her wallet, in a way— she was definitely spoilt. What Ino wanted, Ino got.
[and he didn't know it, how could he, but ino most certainly, most definitely, wanted the cutest, nicest guy, who was stood right in front of her]
"Sit down then, Chouji."
And he sat.
At first, conversation was slow; he seemed to only nod and 'hm' in the appropriate places, while Ino ranted and rambled about whatever crossed her mind. He noticed that was very animated; her expressions switched easily from pure, innocent happiness, to a scowl of distaste, or a sneer of disgust. Her hands spoke for her; she waved them and flapped them about, using them to mime practically every word.
But her eyes were the most captivating; they shone with deep intelligence. They regarded him coolly, even as she spoke about her happiest moments, always watching to see how he was feeling—
—because no matter how dense she might seem, she was always watching; and she almost always knew what to say and what to do.
Even as her eyes pierced his soul, he found that they were entirely open and readable. He could see the overwhelming happiness, so vivid and alive, as well as the niggling look of dissatisfaction— she wasn't good enough, not to herself, but she should know the truth.
She would always be good enough.
She should know the truth.
"…know the truth…"
Ino stopped midflow, "Did you say something, Chouji? What do I need to know?"
Chouji touched his lips, eyes widening slightly in shock— then he eased up, smiling bashfully. "It's nothing, Ino; I just started thinking out loud." He paused, before adding, "And you'll always be good enough, by the way; you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. I'm… I'm just saying."
Ino raised an eyebrow, questioningly, before shrugging and continuing her rambling; but he could tell that she'd understood, and her tone softened. In a way—in her own way— she was thanking him. She was grateful.
And so was he.
-
Years passed, and people changed; Naruto, an old friend of Chouji's, vanished just as Sasuke had— he felt it was a poor decision on Naruto's behalf, as he watched Sakura's eyes grow more and more weary and worried each day. Shikamaru grew, if possible, smarter; and his lack of motivation became less obvious. Not only did his friends change outwardly, but they changed inwardly.
Feelings changed.
His longing for Ino's acceptance became less apparent; he could hold a conversation with her easily, without blushing once, and could even flirt with her at points. Sometimes he'd lose himself in her laughter, and he'd become the stuttering, shy twelve-year-old he'd been before.
His father had told him, jokingly, that he'd aged. "Ino won't love an old man, son— lighten up a bit."
But the threat of the Akatsuki, the threat of Sasuke, a rogue ninja, and the constant threat of death did not let him lighten up; he grew up rapidly. He was not the smartest of his team, nor the bravest, but his serious nature definitely came in hand at times; and his warm, welcoming heart assured every client they ran into.
He was the friendly, smiling ninja.
But he was still infatuated, in a sense.
And he wanted to see her smile for him, laugh for him— he wanted her to want him, just as much as he wanted her.
-
[she already did]
-
It was the summer before Naruto made his reappearance, when everything finally snapped.
His friendship with Ino was fragile, in a sense. He didn't want to tell her his true feelings, for fear of rejection— and then, after that, it would make sense for her to reject his friendship as well as love. He wasn't going to change, or fix, anything.
Sitting next to Ino, with Shikamaru sleeping on his other side, on the top of a hilltop, watching the sun set, wasn't the way he'd expected to spend the last evening of summer. Watching the sun paint the sky flaming red, and burning orange, and dazzling violet, within hand-holding distance of the girl he loved— nothing was better than that. And it was romantic too.
…though the silence was disturbed, every now and then, by a loud snore from Shikamaru.
He was only vaguely aware of Ino's eyes searching his face and he felt his cheeks instinctively grow hot. "What?"
"I…" She fell silent.
Now Chouji turned, staring directly at her; for Ino to be speechless, something had to be on her mind. Her eyes looked torn and she couldn't meet his gaze; his heartbeat raced, as he predicted the next words on her lips
—"no, Chouji, I couldn't possibly love you— I've seen the way you look at me, and I know it's true"—
and waited for the pitying gaze.
But Ino refused to look up; he prompted her gently, placing one chubby finger beneath her chin and tilting her face upwards. "You can tell me," he murmured, honestly.
If she was going to reject him, he'd rather she did it now— and, besides, he was waiting for her to pull her face away in disgust.
Still, she couldn't meet his eyes— but at least she began to speak. "I was just wondering… why don't you come round as much as you used to?"
His heartbeat quickened. "I thought you liked your space… Kiba said girls like their own personal space."
Ino let out a loud laugh, before smiling slightly. "They do. But it changes when it's you; you can come to my house anytime, so long as you leave that lazy slacker in his dump of a bedroom."
Shikamaru mumbled a muffled "troublesome", as Chouji and Ino both chuckled happily. It was almost like old times; sitting there, he'd watch Ino and Shikamaru bicker playfully, and he'd feel so glad to be in their team. One of the team.
"Chouji."
He snapped quickly out of his thoughts, nodding jerkily.
"I really, really like you. You're cute and friendly, you're never a jerk and you're the perfect gentleman. You can be serious, as well as funny, and you're so excruciatingly shy and bashful. You open up easily to people, and you comfort eat." Her tone was warm, but Chouji was expecting the worst.
Really, really liking wasn't exactly love.
"…and I'd like it if you didn't escape into your daydreams, because I have something real important to say," Ino scolded gently, and Chouji whispered a hasty apology.
"Please continue." He was surprised when his voice didn't falter, and he didn't stammer, and he didn't sound anywhere near as terrified as he really was.
Because now he was looking into her eyes, and he could finally see the truth; the truth which he'd refused to register, as it was just too bizarre.
—why get his hopes up, anyway?
"Chouji, I love you; and I know you love me back, because I can read you like a book. Anyone can."
She hooked her arms around his neck, tilting her face towards his; and he really looked at her then. Blonde hair falling in pale strands into one eye; the sunlight glinted off it, forming almost a halo around her pale face. Long dark lashes tickled the tops of her high cheekbones. She was beautiful and angelic.
She was perfect.
And he was truly imperfect.
But somehow that meant they fitted together like a jigsaw— her with her brash, demanding personality and him with his bashful, caring heart—
"Will you hurry up and kiss me, idiot?"
He hastened to do so, because an angry Ino was terrifying; and the feeling of her soft lips against his, gentle and so unlike Ino. They didn't demand anything from him and she wasn't confident at all— she seemed meek and curious, her body arching and pressing against his. One of her hands travelled down his neck, resting on the crook of his back, pushing him against her; he was worried, for a second, that he was too large and she was straining to hold onto him.
But he decided there was no point in being anxious, and responded to her touch; his hands crept around her waist and his eyes closed. Their bodies were practically entwined, both pushing against the other in their need to somehow get closer— if that were possible.
And then Shikamaru had to spoil it all, by coughing loudly.
"As romantic as this is, it's highly awkward to sit there watching your best friends making out," he deadpanned, as the pair spluttered and pulled away, "So could you save it for the bedroom? As troublesome as it is…"
The look of pure rage Ino gave the lazy nin then was enough to make any braver person flinch.
"Shikamaru…"
"Oh, I'm so sorry." Shikamaru's mouth twitched in a half smile. "I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?"
Ino let out such a high pitched shriek that Chouji felt his ear drums had burst; and then he watched, bewildered, as his two friends went rolling and skidding down the hill they'd been sat upon.
He watched them fight, sighed fondly, and then stumbled down after them.
"Guys— guys! Hey, Ino, stop pulling Shikamaru's hair— Shikamaru, don't react! You two are just so childish…!"
-
-
"…you never did grow out of that daydreaming habit of yours." Ino scolded, tapping his nose affectionately. "What did you dream about then?"
"Can you remember when you chased Shikamaru down that hill, just after telling me you loved me? We kissed for the first time, and he interrupted us, and you were livid." Chouji grinned fondly. "Even now, your temper and sharp tongue remains the same. It's one of the reasons I married you."
"Looks and personality, right?"
"Personality mainly."
While she was still as glamorous and sexy as ever, she'd gained weight since then; she had more of a stomach, and her breasts were sagging. Age had etched lines around her eyes— crow's feet, she called them— and time was stealing her away.
"I know, right?" She mumbled, placing her hands on her stomach. "I'm no where near as thin as I used to be; I used to train then, work out; and I'm beginning to get bingo wings." She flapped one arm, pointing at her forearm; but Chouji couldn't spot any 'wings' as she called them, and he just chuckled.
"You're as attractive as ever— and remember that your personality makes you beautiful as well."
"You're the one with the beautiful personality, Chouji. You were always so kind and caring and— oh God, the bread's burning!" And she rushed back into the kitchen, a flurry of curses, attempting to save the charcoaled bread.
Chouji chuckled; in many ways, she definitely hadn't changed. She was still brash and loud and confident and alluring.
But she had also grown up, much more than before, and the kisses they shared were more meaningful— they shared memories and emotions, as well as a feeling of lust. As he looked at her, following the curve of her body, he realized she was much more attractive plump.
Of course, before, he would have disagreed.
Even so…
[she can feel his eyes on her back and she's blushing, but that's because it's too hot, and she still thinks he's a gentleman]
he loves her unconditionally.
—just like back in the day.
Author's Note; I tried to turn this into a more serious piece of fluff; and I wanted Shikamaru to be the one to break the sexual tension, because he's sexy enough. Majorly sorry about the long wait, and the other drabbles will be quickly following this one.
Edit: thanks to the anonymous person who pointed out my mistake about giving birth.