what seems to come with spring
rating: g
genre: romance/angst
pairings: shikasaku
POV: Sakura
other notes: "Let's just stay inside, drink, and tell each other really bad jokes." prompted by amako/dimancheetoile on tumblr
word count: 484
A/N: While I will keep crossposting to the oneshot collections that are hosted here, I haven't been crossposting any new fic. If you want to see the rest of what I'm writing, please feel free to follow me on Tumblr or on Archive Of Our Own, where you can find me under the username mouseymightymarvellous. Thanks so much to everyone who is still reading.
The glow of the candles is trapped by the thick curtains on every window, turning the pile of blankets they're sprawled across into a cave of dark purples and soft shadows.
Immortality and the end of all things tastes like ashes and sake and the edge of Shikamaru's mouth cut into laughter.
Sakura is lost to the warmth of the refuge they've carved out of the world, Shikamaru's limbs tangled in her own.
"And then—" Shikamaru cuts off, choked by his own giggles, tears in his eyes as he tries to finish.
Sakura is laughing with him, laughing at him, the plot of the joke lost to her sharp gasping breath.
"And then— Ok, ok. Shh. Let me finish."
Sakura does her best to not smile, biting down on her tongue. Shikamaru avoids her eyes, trying not to get lost in their mutual hilarity.
"And then, ok, he says, 'We don't sell any cheese!'"
In a shared breath, Sakura and Shikamaru start cackling again, bending into each other to trade laughter, foreheads pressed tight and tears on their cheeks.
The force of it tries to force her eyes closed, but Sakura squints to keep Shikamaru's face in view. She doesn't want to blink and lose a second of this.
But Shikamaru bends closer, pressing his face into the crook of her neck, jostling the stoppered bottle between them.
Which reminds her—
Sakura curls a hand around Shikamaru's shoulder to keep him close and picks up the bottle, shaking it.
Right, they still haven't finished. And there's time left, still. Just a little. Just enough. (Eternity couldn't be enough, but Sakura is old enough now to treasure what she has and to cling to it with bloody fingers.)
"C'mon," Sakura says, and presses a kiss to Shikamaru's hairline. "Sit up and we'll finish this."
Shikamaru noses closer. "Just a little bit longer," he argues, his hands wrapped around her thighs.
Sakura considers the curtained windows and the chakra buzzing at her fingertips and the howling outside.
"A little bit longer," she agrees. "Tell me another joke."
.
.
.
Shikamaru is still laughing, his head thrown back and the bruises under his eyes outshone by the joy on his face, when Sakura presses her mouth to his wrist and injects her chakra.
He's still smiling even as his eyes dim.
The walls shiver, until even they melt away under the grey entropy around them.
Sakura sits in her pile of blankets, alone.
The only light in the world is her seals twining down her limbs.
It's not enough to hold back what is coming.
But maybe it's enough.
.
.
.
Shikamaru smiles at the pink haired women sitting next to him, slumped inelegantly against the sticky bar with mischief on her face, almost enough to mask the profound grief hiding in the cut of her shoulders.
"Hey," she says. "So this guy walks into a cheese shop…"
.
.
.
Maybe it's enough.