Chap. IX: The Other Side
"I have found men who didn't know how to kiss,
(But) I've always found time to teach them."
– Mae West
Light filtered gaily through the blinds. Temari rubbed an eye as it heated her vision with redish tint. Did she even have windows at that angle to her bed? She was pretty sure she didn't. And what was with her pillow? It seemed firmer, and muscular. Also, if she wasn't mistaken, it was moving up and down in almost a breathing motion.
Eyes still firmly closed, she tried to figure out just what on earth could be going on in the world outside of her. She would have already opened her eyes and investigated, but there was a headache mounting in her temples.
After a few minutes of struggling to think, Temari opened one eye as a tester. As expected, sunlight attacked her vision automatically, and she had to blink a few times to clear the sensation, but when she could finally see she found that she was staring up into the sleeping face of a boy.
His hair was falling sloppily from his ponytail, his eyes closed. She realized what the motion in her "pillow" was—his breathing.
Shikamaru's breathing.
With a quiet yelp, Temari scrambled from the bed and onto the brown rug on Shikamaru's wooden floors. Immediately she regretted this decision, because her headache jumped at her again with renewed malevolence.
Slowly, holding her head, she eased herself back onto the bed and lay down at its top, on an actual pillow this time instead of Shikamaru's stomach, which she had been occupying before. She tried to glare at him with all her hatred, but the headache was too strong—and so annoying.
Trying not to stress herself out, she wondered just exactly what she was doing in Shikamaru's house in the morning… asleep, and cuddled next to him, on his bed. She tried to remember what happened last night, but all that remained was a dull blur. She remembered getting home from her afternoon walk and getting some water, and then… nothing.
With growing horror, she realized that anything could have happened to her. Shikamaru wouldn't have taken advantage of her or anything, but… her body felt suddenly weird, strange and foreign, as though it really wasn't hers. What had it done while she was, apparently, not in her right mind? And why was she so close to Shikamaru when she had obviously made it clear that she didn't want to be…? Though, now as she thought about it, he was quite comfortable. And he was her boyfriend…
Silently she reprimanded herself for thinking such thoughts. Boyfriend or no boyfriend, this certainly wasn't her fault—whatever had gone on. She shoved the inviting thoughts about resuming her position beside him away and focused on what exactly she was going to be screaming at him once he woke up.
Oh, he was in for a beating.
That is, she thought miserably, if this troublesome headache ever goes away.
Temari did a mental face-palm. She was spending too much time with this lazy bastard.
She stayed in the same curled up position with the pillow clutched between her arm and her head for another forty-five minutes until Shikamaru roused himself awake. First his lean arms stirred, and then his face twitched a few times. She wondered if the sun was bothering him, too.
At last his eyes opened, one at a time, and blinked around at the room. He sat completely up and gave a groan of pain, stretching his neck. She suddenly felt bad for him—he had been sleeping while leaning against the wall for the whole night? And with her on top of him? It must have been uncomfortable.
With a burst of fondness, Temari realized just how sweet it was of him not to push her off, as she would have expected him to do. It was what she would have done.
And as he blinked again and cleared his eyes of sleep, Temari gave him an awkward, sideways, good-morning-sunshine smile. She didn't mean to, but once it was off of her lips, it stood there in the open. Preparing to be judged, rejected, or cast aside as meaningless—she was surprised when Shikamaru's own, thinner lips returned the smile softly.
"How are you feeling?" he wondered. His voice was hoarse and cracked the shimmering morning silence like it was glass.
"Headache," she muttered, her smile disappearing and being replaced with a grimace. Shikamaru nodded, and then asked,
"Do you remember anything?" He hesitated, and looked down in a discomfited way, "From yesterday, I mean."
Instantly her anger sprung into action again, and she tried to sit up—her temples moaned in pain, and she flopped back down on the pillow, doing her best to shoot him a glare that would light his stupid (yet oddly sexy), messy ponytail on fire.
"I don't," she responded waspishly, "So what the hell happened?"
"Well, you were drunk," he mentioned.
Temari wrinkled her nose. "I don't drink," she corrected him matter-of-factly.
"Well you must have had something when you came over already then. Because you seemed pretty out of it," he paused again, as though reluctant to tell her something. "And then you scrambled around my kitchen and drank up all the sake we had in the house, claiming you'd 'had a bad day.'"
"Oh." She became abruptly flustered, and embarrassed. She didn't remember having a bad day. Or scrambling around his kitchen. But a more pressing matter was that Shikamaru had seen her drunk—worse, he'd had to deal with her. She tried to imagine what she'd been like.
"What did I… do?" she wondered. Almost afraid of what she would hear.
"You ran into a wall, for starters."
A snort of laughter broke through her mouth. "God, I must have looked like such an idiot," she said.
"Well," he replied, cracking his neck and giving a half-hearted smile, "You were pretty troublesome to control."
"You didn't… shadow bind me or anything?" she speculated. Shikamaru shook his head wearily.
"I thought about it, but… You weren't exactly in your right mind, were you? It wouldn't have been fair."
Temari tried to sit up and managed to get on her knees with minimal head pain.
"What else did I do?" she wondered.
Shikamaru looked away.
"You tried to kiss me."
"Oh," she said again.
A polite silence nestled between them, coating each in its thick unease. Beyond the inelegance of the moment, Temari contemplated what it might be like to kiss Shikamaru. His lips, which were thin and supple—what did it feel like to touch them?
"Um," she said, flustered. The statement floated from her lips and landed, powdery and white, on the bed sheets, which she now gripped with fists that were clenched in awkwardness. "I'm sorry about that."
Shikamaru looked at her. His eyes were slender and sheer; his posture bony as he twisted to catch her expression. She looked at him only reluctantly; suddenly sensing Rejection, of whom she was desperately afraid. Perhaps it showed on her face, because he suddenly relaxed into a kind smile. Not unlike the one he had given the children at the school when they had been to the Academy. It was the kind of smile that understood even when nothing was clear.
"It's okay," he allowed.
Temari returned the smile gratefully, confirming that they had lived through the moment.
"We didn't do anything else, did we?" she asked.
"No," he agreed, looking thankful. "We didn't. You fell asleep on me pretty soon after that."
The bedsprings groaned as Shikamaru stood up and walked towards a small mirror hanging tight to the wall in the corner. He glanced at himself, rolled his eyes, and flicked out his ponytail—his hair fell across his shoulders just briefly enough for Temari to see that it was but a little shorter than her own when it was down—only to tie it up tightly a second later.
Without looking at her, he said, "You want a second to freshen up? My mom's probably already making breakfast… and she's going to be wondering what we did last night."
"Sure," she said without really thinking about it. Then she realized that she'd never met his mother properly. Oh God, she mentally moaned, feeling inexplicably idiotic. Way to make a first impression, Temari.
"Bathroom's the first door on the right," said Shikamaru before nodding at her and slouching from the room, leaving Temari to her own devices.
After she made it into the bathroom (the headache was still pressing, but gradually lessening), she redid her own four ponytails, washed her face, straightened her clothes, and then took a deep breath. Her shoes seemed to echo loudly on the floor as she made her way into the kitchen.
"Oh, you must be Temari!" cried a woman who was bending over something on the stove (making breakfast, probably). She had long hair that was the same color as Shikamaru's, and now that they were greeting each other properly, Temari noticed Shikamaru had inherited her nose and neck and shoulders. "I'm Yoshino Nara, by the way—Shikamaru's just been telling me how fantastic you are,"—personally, Temari doubted this—"you really must join us for breakfast, we're all just dying to get to know our little boy's first girlfriend—"
Temari's gaze swerved behind the woman, where Shikamaru was sitting at the table. He had just flopped his head down into his arms in embarrassment.
She smirked. So she was his first girlfriend? Temari had always thought he'd been more experienced by the way he acted when he was around her, as though he knew what he was doing—
She argued privately with herself that, indeed, this must be the truth, for what girl would ever date that lazy bastard?
Oh yeah, she recognized glumly after a moment; that would be me.
Realizing that Yoshino was still blabbering away with idle chatter, Temari feigned paying attention, nodding and smiling. She was a good woman, Yoshino: Temari could already tell that they'd get along, though she was secretly afraid that if she ever was anything but polite around her that she, Temari, would officially be disowned from the Nara family.
"—but anyways, breakfast. Have a seat," she offered as she skirted around Temari with a pan and made for the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen to set the pan by four plates. Willingly, Temari obeyed, and in a moment a plate of steaming eggs, bacon and hash browns was thrust in front of her.
A man stumbled sleepily into the kitchen. He stretched and yawned widely and then, seeing Temari seated beside Shikamaru, the man gave a huge, proud grin.
"And who are you?" he wanted to know. He sat down across from her. Judging by his smug expression, half-opened eyes, high ponytail and lounge-like walk, there was no guessing who Shikamaru got his personality from.
"This is Temari, Dad," Shikamaru answered for her. "Temari, this is my dad, Shikaku."
"Nice to meet you," said Temari, doing her best to smile. As if the world wasn't bad enough with one Shikamaru…
Shikaku held out his hand and shook Temari's strongly before leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes.
"Firm handshake, that's good, especially for a young lady like yourself… Reminds me of the first time I met your mother, Shikamaru." He opened one eye and glanced at Yoshino, who had suddenly begun scrubbing the dish with such a force that Temari was surprised it didn't break in two.
"You were lazy even then, too," she snapped, "And you turned your nose up at me."
"But I came around…" he mumbled, closing his eyes and trailing off into peaceful silence, in which Temari was almost positive she heard him snoring quietly.
Yoshino finally joined the rest of the family at the table and they began to eat. She felt more queasy than hungry, but to be polite Temari nibbled at her eggs, which were delicious. Yoshino grilled Shikamaru with chatter (the usual Mom things to pester him with) as Shikaku nearly fell asleep in his bacon. Occasionally a question would fly her direction, and she'd try to catch and cradle it with ease, often failing and spluttering herself into ridiculous silence. It seemed that no one but her noticed this failure, however, and she wondered why she was feeling self-conscious around these of all people.
Breakfast ended soon, and Shikaku jerked himself awake, muttering, "Shikamaru, can I see you in the hall?"
Shikamaru blinked down at his half-finished breakfast in surprise. "Sure, Dad," he agreed, and the two left the room in the same lazy fashion. Yoshino collected the plates and dumped them in the sink.
"Oh sorry," Temari muttered guiltily, "I'll help—"
"That's quite alright," Yoshino replied, waving Temari away kindly, "You're the guest. Clever though, of the boys to escape right when cleanup comes, hmm?" She gave a laugh. It was a tinkling, musical sound, like a wind chime.
Temari allowed a smile as well.
"So, Temari, tell me about your home," Yoshino said, turning on the water and wetting a sponge, "I hear your brother is Kazekage."
"Yes," Temari replied. "I'm in Konoha on business."
"And you agreed to date Shikamaru?" Yoshino laughed another wind chime laugh. "You're a sweet girl for putting up with him when you don't have to."
"It's not a problem," said Temari, wondering where Yoshino was going with this, "You're pretty good at it," she added smilingly.
Nodding, Yoshino replied, "Well, my boys have their handsome moments too. They're not all lazy and good-for-nothing. That first impression can often be misleading—but why am I telling you this?"
She caught Temari in clear, happy eye contact. Her smile was like a bubble, floating faithfully into the air.
"You obviously already know Shikamaru's other side, don't you?"
His "other side"? He had another side, besides the lazy, sarcastic crybaby side? Truth be told, Temari didn't know what Yoshino was talking about, and she suddenly felt like she was missing out on something both very special and very rare; something that, by now, she should know of. But she didn't know, and it was a lonely, secluded feeling.
"Um." Temari lied, "Yeah. A bit."
Another smile slipped from Yoshino's lips as she went back to washing dishes. They lapsed into an easy silence, Temari's mind still buzzing with what this "other side" of Shikamaru could be.
After a while, Shikamaru himself slouched back into the room.
"Dad fell asleep on the couch," he announced, earning a pinched expression from his mother. He then nodded to Temari, "Kankuro's probably wondering where you are."
"Yeah," she agreed only half-heartedly. "Guess I should get going."
"Come on," Shikamaru beckoned her with a hand, "I'll walk you home."
"Nice to meet you, thanks for breakfast," Temari said to Yoshino's back. The woman looked over her shoulder and gave another smile, this one more reassuring than anything else. Temari guessed that Yoshino had sensed her discomfort—she was just as perceptive as her son.
Temari wanted to talk, to say something, anything, just a simple phrase to get the dusty, late-morning air moving around them. So she settled with,
"Your mom is really nice."
That earned a chuckle from Shikamaru.
"What?" asked Temari snappishly as they continued down the street, passing and occasionally waving to people they (or rather, Shikamaru) knew. "She is. She made me breakfast. No one's ever made me breakfast before."
"It's just funny you should say that…" he trailed off. She was about to ask why that was so funny when he said, "You two are a lot alike."
She blinked in rhythm with her footsteps. "We are? How"
"Yeah," he replied, "Both bossy and troublesome women."
"Oh, of course," she said scathingly. They fell into silence again, but she could see her house from here anyways.
They approached the door and then turned to face each other for goodbyes, an act they'd grown accustomed to in these few weeks. Sunlight shone upon them, bright and awake, saturating every color in its reach.
"Well," Shikamaru whistled out.
The word hung in the air.
"Well," agreed Temari. "I'm sorry for getting drunk yesterday and… trying to kiss you and everything." The last part of her sentence came out rushed, as though the words had pushed and shoved each other out of her mouth. "That was probably… awkward for you."
Shikamaru shrugged. "It was okay," he said.
Temari stared at him. He seemed to realize that he had said something strange as well, for his eyes suddenly got a bit wider.
"I mean," he stumbled, "It's okay, the issue—well, the kiss was okay too, that is, it wasn't bad, not that I was aiming for that—I'm saying I forgive you, for that—oh, this is troublesome," he finished lamely.
Temari laughed, only now making the connection in her mind: She was Shikamaru's first girlfriend, so that kiss she gave him yesterday… that was his first kiss.
"Look at me, Nara," she said, and Shikamaru did. In this glorious light, it wasn't hard to see that his cheeks were tinted pink in embarrassment. Was this the other side his mother had been referring to? This embarrassed, adorable, oddly lovable Shikamaru?
"Sorry," he mumbled ashamedly, looking down and away—but before he could turn, Temari caught his chin with her fingertips. She could only imagine his surprise when she kissed him for the second time. His lips were soft and gentle; she pressed very faintly against his bottom lip and then pulled away.
"That's how you kiss someone," she said matter-of-factly, putting one hand behind her on the door handle, "Incase I didn't teach you properly last night."
"Right," nodded Shikamaru bemusedly, his expression glazed, "I'll keep that in mind."
With a final, fragile smile, Temari turned the door handle and made to go inside, away from his dazed face, imagining Shikamaru documenting kissing techniques away in his genius of a brain.
"Wait."
She turned back to face him. His expression was vulnerable and cautious.
"Ino's party. It's tomorrow night. You promised her you'd go."
"Oh," said Temari as she remembered the 'promise.'
"So, would you… I mean, I'll swing by here at around… how's seven?" He looked nervous and self conscious, something Temari had never seen in him before. She gave him a smile, to calm him down, but it might have come out as a smirk (she was finding this quite humorous) because he didn't appear the least bit relaxed.
"Seven," she agreed. "How should I dress?"
"Dressing up is too troublesome," he replied. "I'm not going to do anything special."
"That probably means Ino wants us to."
"Probably."
Silence. It was a silence that waited for something extravagant to happen; it waited for some phenomenon to shock the awkwardness away. It waited, and waited.
It seemed that now, after all this time of being lazy, and a coward, Shikamaru decided to push some courage to the surface. Temari watched his face change from susceptible and exposed to impermeable and determined, as his fingers made contact with her wrist to pull her forward.
And Temari saw quite clearly his "other side" when he kissed her. It was much the same as when she had kissed him just a few moments ago: Soft and quick and smooth, with light, brief pressure. It was sweet, though, and Temari felt its calm collectedness as she closed her eyes. He released her mouth and let go of her wrist a half-second later.
"…the results of your teaching," he nodded to the moment, which still seemed to ring through the air like an echo.
"I'm not a bad teacher," Temari teased, and then she said, "Tell your mom thanks again. Good bye, Shikamaru."
He stared at her.
"I mean, Nara," she corrected quickly.
His face relaxed into an effortless, simple smile. It was a beautiful kind of smile, and it was the last thing Temari saw before she turned the door handle and went inside.