"Remind me why we're doing this again?" she grumbled as he gently manoeuvred her towards the room.
"Because Ino bought it as a gift for her and Sai and now he can't go," he repeated for what felt like the tenth time. "Now would you just suck it up and get in there?"
"Who was the person that thought a couples' art class was a good idea?" she complained. "I'm terrible at drawing, now I have to endure you making fun of my inherent lack of skill for two hours!"
"I promise I won't make fun of you," he exhaled deeply. "Now sit down."
"Welcome!" a bright, melodious voice chimed. "My name is Asaka-sensei, I will be leading your couples' art class today! I hope you're ready to discover an even deeper connection with each other through the power of art."
Temari rolled her eyes at her boyfriend out of the sensei's view. They were opposite each other; women on one side, men on the other, an easel in between each couple. Shikamaru merely smirked in response.
"Art is known for being an incredible personal, passionate, even sensual form of expression," Asaka-sensei continued, just as dramatically as before. "It is a way for you to show your significant other all the emotions you cannot express with words. Now, without further ado, let's begin! Let's have the ladies draw the gentlemen first. If the females could bring the easel towards them; you'll find paper and graphite sticks at your disposal."
Temari reluctantly dragged the easel so it was in front of her stool and perused the graphite selection. 3B? 4B? 9B? What was this 'B' business about? Did it even make a difference? Whatever...she thought, grabbing the 9B because it looked the most intimidating. If it goes terribly, I'll blame it on choosing the wrong one.
"Now, let's warm you up by doing a thirty-second sketch."
"Thirty seconds?!" Temari exclaimed, then slapped a hand to her mouth when she realised she'd said that out loud.
"Yes, uh, your name is...?"
"Temari."
"Well, yes, Temari-san, thirty seconds is all you need. There's something inexplicably beautiful about fast, spontaneous drawings; they're so bold! Just let your hand lead the way. Don't think; just do."
She shot Shikamaru an apprehensive look. He smiled to himself, sitting up a little straighter as he believed a model should.
"Alright. On your marks, get set...draw!"
Graphite scribbled furiously throughout the room. Temari's eyes flitted back and forth between her subject and her easel. At the fifteen-second mark, she made the mistake of glancing at the woman next to her, and she was pretty sure the room could hear her jaw hit the floor as her eyes fell upon the Hans Holbein-esque portrait that was coming together without any effort at all.
There's no way she's just an amateur...Temari thought to herself. Stupid. Professional. Artist.
"Okay...time's up! Show your partner your interpretation of them!"
Shikamaru made a motion to rise from his stool. She halted him right there.
"No."
"Temari, this is an art class..."
"You're not looking at it."
"No one's gonna create a masterpiece in half a minute. I don't care how bad you think it is."
"You're not the one sitting next to Miss Vincent van Gogh here!"
"Van Gogh only sold one painting in his lifetime, you know."
"But they went for millions once he died!"
"Will you just show me already, troublesome woman?"
She sighed and took the top sheet of paper from the easel. Slowly, she turned it around in her hands until her boyfriend was staring at a...less than accurate rendering of himself.
He tried his best not to laugh, but a small chuckle escaped his lips.
"It's...unique."
"Nice save."
"No really...I like it. You can definitely tell it's me."
She raised an eyebrow sceptically.
"Interesting to see what you think my most defining features are."
"I had thirty seconds, this was all that came to mind!"
He laughed. "I guess I do look a bit like a pineapple."
"Excellent work, ladies! Now let's swap roles. Take your positions."
Shikamaru walked over to claim the easel, finding the portrait of him even more amusing upon closer inspection. "Let's frame it when we get home," he whispered in her ear.
"Ha!" she scoffed. "It'll be worth millions when I die, just you wait and see."
"I hate you."
He'd revealed himself to be a natural artist, with his five portraits of her all paying careful attention to line, tone and detail. She, on the other hand, couldn't seem to get the hang of it no matter what medium she was using. The length of time didn't seem to make a difference, either; her half-hour watercolour painting was just as rudimentary as her thirty-second scribble. She hated the fact that this was unarguably his domain, and there was no sign of that dynamic shifting anytime soon.
"Temari-san, you seem to be getting frustrated," Asaka-sensei interrupted. "What's the matter?"
She looked at her pathetic attempt to make the random lines on her piece of paper vaguely resemble her boyfriend. "I can't do it right."
"Now, Temari-san, there's no such thing as 'right' or 'wrong' in art. Just go with what your heart tells you; let your love for Shikamaru-san be communicated on the canvas."
Temari rolled her eyes.
"Besides, there are plenty of other forms of art for you to try. Perhaps you're not a fan of drawing or painting, but maybe there is something out there you have a knack for - you just haven't found it yet."
"How reassuring."
Asaka-sensei took one of Temari's hands in her own without warning and inspected it closely. It was far from dainty; though the fingers were slender, they were firm, tanned and calloused in parts. "Ah...these are the hands of a potter, Temari-san! I'm sure of it. Why don't you come back next week for a couples' pottery class?"
"Gee, I don't know about that, Asaka-sensei..."
"I'll make it a free trial, since it seems you didn't get your money's worth from today's session."
"Actually, this was a gif-"
"We'll take it," Shikamaru interrupted, smirking at his girlfriend.
She was appalled. She never expected him of all people to sign them up for a Saturday in a hot, dusty, messy studio, but clearly he enjoyed the idea for whatever reason.
"Fabulous! I'll see you both next week."
Temari glared at him, sitting smugly across from her. "If my work makes millions, you can forget about a cut."
"See, this isn't so bad, is it?"
She didn't want to admit it, and she certainly wasn't happy about it, but he was right; there she was, relishing the feeling of the clay spinning between her palms, his own gently overlaying them as his arms encircled hers. They were making pottery, Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore-style, and they were good at it - she was good at it. She'd have a new vase to humour her love of horticulture with before she knew it, not to mention it was nice to see him look the way he looked at her; it was a look of pride and admiration.
"Maybe I'll take up pottery as a hobby," she mused, eyes lost in the constant motion of the pottery wheel.
"Only if I get to play my part," he grinned, running his smooth, clay-covered fingers over her knuckles. "Our apartment's gonna be overrun by plants soon, isn't it?"
She flashed that smile he loved. "You bet."