The warmth of alcohol flushed Sakura's cheeks, mirroring the heat that radiated from the fireplace. She tipped her head to the side, studying the shogi board spread between herself and Shikamaru. The man's dark eyes followed Sakura's hand as she selected her next move. On the table, an untouched glass of white wine rested by his knee.

Sakura slid one of the pieces forward with a finger, and Shikamaru's mouth tightened. She had him trapped in six moves or less, no matter which direction he chose. They had started playing together months earlier when Sakura asked him to explain the rules of the game. Both of them had been surprised when she showed not only aptitude for the game, but excelled at it.

When Shikamaru shifted a pawn in a manner Sakura didn't expect, she snorted. "I'm almost certain that move was illegal."

The man had the audacity to affect an innocent face. Then, Shikamaru flashed one of his rare grins. "Like you would know the difference."

"Hey," Sakura growled, only partially having to feign the insult she felt. "I've learned most of the rules. I had a decent teacher after all."

"Decent," Shikamaru repeated, a chuckle rising in the back of his throat.

Ignoring the amused look, Sakura stretched across the table to move the piece back to its original position. Shikamaru reached for the tile as well. Their fingers brushed for a moment, and Sakura tried to deny the tingle of electricity that coursed through her hand. Shikamaru jerked back at almost the same instant, bumping his glass. It wobbled, then fell toward the floor.

Sakura moved on instinct, scrambling on her knees for the glass and bumping the table in her hate. Tiles rained down around her as half of the liquid sloshed out of the glass. Something closed around Sakura's upper arm and kept her from falling. It took her several long seconds to realize that it was Shikamaru's hand. Her first impulse had been to stop the mess; his instinct had been to catch her.

"I'm sorry," Sakura murmured, not sure what she was apologizing for. Holding the stem of the nearly empty glass, she glanced up at Shikamaru. HIs fingers remained around her bicep, but he didn't speak. "Shika?"

A flush darkened Shkamaru's cheeks as he released Sakura's arm and mumbled an apology. Unsure what to say, Sakura ignored it. She frowned down at the disarray of their game board. Shikamaru followed her gaze, then smiled. "Looks like we're going to have to start over."

"Because you were losing," Sakura countered, pushing back onto her knees. "It's convenient that you knocked over your drink when I was three moves from beating you."

"Five moves." Shikamaru answered, regarding Sakura with cool, black eyes. He pushed into a standing position. "And, that's only if I couldn't find a way around it."

Sakura rolled her eyes and followed the man into the kitchen. Shikamaru swiped a dish towel from the counter and walked into the other room. Dumping the glass into the sink, Sakura called over her shoulder. "Why didn't you finish your drink? I thought this one was your favorite?"

"It's your favorite," Shikamaru answered. He shrugged as he carried the cloth and Sakura's glass back into the kitchen. After placing the latter into the sink next to his, Shikamaru bumped against Sakura's hip when he got closer. She slid obediently out of the way. "I prefer the red."

"You never told me that," Sakura accused, frowning at the unfinished bottle next to their discarded takeout. Shikamaru didn't respond as he turned on the tap to rinse their glasses and plates. Sakura nudged his ribs with a pointed finger. "What else are you hiding from me?"

Shikamaru laughed, a sound that Sakura had heard more times in the past few months than in all the years she'd known him. He shifted away from her touch, water splashing between them when he raised his palms innocently. "Your taste in wine is terrible honestly. And, your takeout choices are questionable."

Sakura's mouth fell open at the words. "I've asked you to pick dozens of times, but you always leave it up to me."

"Because I want you to pick whatever you want, not what you think I want." Shikamaru answered. His tilted his head, watching the words sink in.

Sakura paused, body close enough to feel the warmth of Shikamaru's chest inches from her. "That's dumb. We'll get the red next time. It shouldn't just be about what I want, but what we both want."

The running water seemed louder when Shikamaru didn't answer, ringing in Sakura's ears like her heartbeat. She wondered at the man's silence, then at the wistful expression on his face when she looked up. The right corner of his mouth pulled up in a half-smile. "What if we don't want the same thing?"

The words took Sakura by surprise, but she knew that they weren't talking about drinking any longer. She gazed into the eyes that had grown familiar over the past few months, the easy smile and perfect curve of his lips. Some corner of Sakura's mind registered that her heartbeat had increased as her breathing grew shallow. What we both want-he couldn't possibly mean-

Sakura raised one hand to Shikamaru's cheek, brushing away a pale sud that had landed there during his retreat. He exhaled, not quite turning into the touch. She chewed on the inside of her lower lip, wondering if it would be too forward. Butterflies tumbled through Sakura's chest when she rose on tiptoes to brush her lips questioningly across Shikamaru's.

The man didn't move, and Sakura wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake. They were friends, best friends even, and she'd just made things weird by-the second kiss took her by surprise when Shikamaru instigated it. The gentle pressure stole her breath, making it impossible to think.

When they broke apart, Sakura blew out a lungful of air and tried to quiet the frantic humming of her body. She slid her tongue along her lip, aware of Shikamaru's eyes following the movement. Snaking her arms around his waist, Sakura laughed. "I guess we agree on one thing, at least."

Shikamaru brushed warm lips against Sakura's forehead. "We do. You're terribly troublesome."