Chapter III

[Shura – Touch]

Shikamaru lazily opened his eyes. With some effort, he pushed the blanket away. The morning sun warmed the room enough for him to be uncomfortably hot under the sheets. His lids closed again and a smile appeared on his lips, it was his day off and he did not plan to step his foot outside his bed until noon.

Suddenly he heard his mother voice, calling him from the yard impatiently, and so his plan was ruined instantly. He laid there for a little while, pretending to be asleep in hopes she will give up. Unfortunately, the next call was loud enough to actually wake him up, so silently grunting he forced himself out of the lovely sheets, found his baggy sweatpants and a T-shirt, and wobbled barefoot on the stone path outside.

There he saw his mother's happy face – that usually was a bad sign – and a smirking sand kunoichi. Another bad sign. Is this day already ruined?

"You have a guest, Shikamaru." Yoshino announced cheerfully, and he absentmindedly ran his hand through his lose hair, frowning. He forgot to tie them up.

"At this hour? Oh come on…"

"Shikamaru! Not only you come outside looking like that, not even bother to say hello but you also manage to complain right in front of your guest? I'm starting to think I failed my job as a mother seeing how you manage to live on you own."

-.-.-

I burst out laughing of her sarcasm-filled lecture and Shikamaru's mood visibly dropped even lower. Rolling his eyes, he turned around and shuffled towards his front door, mumbling "Are you coming or not…" over his shoulder. Yoshino sighed loudly.

"I'm really sorry he's being like this, Temari. He's very difficult to handle."

I gave her a small smile. Personally, I thought he wasn't that difficult. Simply lazy. Very lazy.

"Would you wait a little? I want to take a shower first, I just got out of my bed as you can see."

"Sure. Just make it quick."

His house was huge and very traditional. It had a cozy feeling to it though, a feeling of a family that lived here. Surprisingly, there was no feeling of absence or emptiness here. It was as if the house was simply waiting for the family to come back. I let myself wander around, checking out some family portraits on the walls and herbal books in the bookshelf, eventually finding my way to the kitchen.

I did not really care of what he would think about me making him breakfast in his own house, but I didn't have anything better to do. Was I feeling sorry for waking him up…? Nah.

I also decided to spoil myself with a cup of coffee, which, I found, he didn't have.

Sitting on the porch with a teacup in my hands, I heard his steps on wooden floor. I watched amused over my shoulder when he came in with his dripping wet hair and stared dumbfounded at what I placed on the table. I could see the battle between surprise, gratitude and playfulness, the latter won, resulting in mockery.

"Feeling like home already?"

Already?

"You have a very unique ability to complain about everything."

He sat down next to me with the sandwich in his hand and a little smile on his face; there was a lot of space but he chose to sit close so our shoulders touched, eyeing me curiously while chewing his meal. I stared back, and he stopped eating to lift his hand to my cheek, brushing a lose thread of hair behind my ear. Naturally, I tensed up, but didn't feel the need to back away from his touch; this surprised me more than his little move. His dark eyes darted down to my lips and he kept his gaze there as if contemplating something, sparing me another second to take in what is happening, but next moment he turned away, just as my heart began beating impatiently.

What stopped you?

"I have a mission tomorrow."

"Cool. Try not to cry."

"You're unbearable…"

"Thanks."