Please understand that I wanted to make Shikamaru seem... possessive? I don't know if that's the right word but you get what I mean, right? I own nothing :D Merry Christmas to all who celebrate it!
He sees her twisting a strand of her hair around a finger from where he stands and he smirks to himself; this site shouldn't be so familiar.
Mia looks at him and smiles distractedly and bites her bottom lip. It is easy to tell she's nervous.
"I've never been to one of your Shinobi dinners. Is it much different from regular evenings?" she asks, her lip turning purple from constant assault. He assures her vaguely that it's nothing to be concerned about and leads her away from the threshold.
Her eyes are on him as he enters but she looks away to talk to the handsome man beside her; her fiance, he sneers to himself. She talks about him often, insisting he is a good man. That doesn't stop her from coming to him though, he thinks to himself.
Mia spots the Kazekage and begins her raptures about his child and Shikamaru takes the opportunity to watch her again. Her hands are folded in front of her, twisting a napkin before realizing what she's doing and dropping it quickly. The man to her left doesn't seem to notice and continues smiling at her, no doubt in awe of her. Shikamaru remembers feeling that before; he still feels it now.
Mia returns, blushing, and follows his train of sight to see the Kazekage's older sister. "What is it?" she asks him. He looks at her with the usual apathetic eyes and says that they should sit at that table because he wants to talk to the man with the sandy blonde hair.
She doesn't question him; even when he sits across from the handsome man. She exchanges polite words with her and he smiles, thinking of how irritated she must be.
Later, when conversation fills the table, he gestures to the hallway leading to the bathroom. She excuses herself a few minutes later and he follows behind not long after.
It happens then, under the dim lighting of the staircase; that rawness he's been missing, those breathy sighs, moans, all for him. He drinks her in, unable to see what's in front of him.
He blames the lighting.
When they are done, he wants to curl her up in his arms and just stay but reality is cruel and his wife is probably wondering where he is. Mia was never the most patient of people.
He looks at her once more and sees her eyes and wants to cry. But he turns away; he doesn't want to hear her say that this is meaningless.