Category: Romantic Fluff
Characters: Shikamaru Nara, Temari
Hello, everyone! ^u^ This is my piece for Day 1 of ShikaTema Week for the prompt "Letters"!
Temari's blue-green eyes trawled over the neatly inked rows of words stretching across the parchment she held above her face as she lay sprawled diagonally across her bed. The oceanic orbs absorbed every detail of the lettering, from the blobs of black ink indicative of careful consideration to the whooshing lines of excited haste. Her pink lips curled upwards into a giddy smile as she read the words contained within the letter, and when she finished, she hugged the piece of parchment to her chest. The paper crinkled under the force of her embrace; the noise was barely audible over her contented sigh. She pulled the bottom half of the letter to once more peek at the letter's signature.
Shikamaru.
Just reading his name made a delighted grin spring to her features. Temari would never openly express her besottedness of the boy, but within the solitude of her bower, she afforded herself some small measure of freedom. She rolled onto her side, clutching the letter and smiling gleefully. The moonlight streamed in through the slightly open window with particles of sand that glowed like moondust. The hour was late; she had no business writing a reply. Nevertheless, she sprang from her bedsheets to hurry to her desk, scrambling for pen and parchment and words to say.
Ever since the incident in the Land of Shadow and Naruto's wedding, she and Shikamaru had been communicating regularly. Maintaining a long-distance relationship was difficult, especially with the both of them so involved with the political realms of the respective villages. Still, they were determined to make it work. Correspondence was instrumental in sustaining their feelings for one another. Neither of them was particularly eloquent nor amorous, so typically, the contents of the letters were quite dull. However, Temari knew Shikamaru exceptionally well. She could hear the hints of affection bled into the inked pages, see his shy smirk before her waking eyes. Their wavelengths had aligned into a single pulsing wave, and thus, they knew intricacies about one another no one else ever could.
After about ten minutes of eagerly transcribing the recent events of her life onto the page, Temari paused to give her aching wrist a break. She rolled it casually to loosen the stiffening ligaments and glanced out of the window. Her white curtains ruffled in the night breeze like dancing skirts, silken and ethereal. The stars glimmered in the desert sky, joined only by faint wisps of gray clouds and a grinning crescent moon. She wondered if Shikamaru was awake at this hour and gazing upon the same night sky. Probably not, she thought in dry amusement, he's either asleep, or has his nose in a shogi board. The image of him hunched over the game always made her chuckle. His brows furrowed in concentration while holding his chin thoughtfully… one might be fooled that he applied such enthusiasm to all his efforts.
He has grown, though, she admitted as she leaned back in her desk chair. Shikamaru did exert himself almost unnecessarily so in the Leaf Village's political affairs. When Temari inquired about his zeal, he always groaned and insisted it was because Naruto wouldn't know a mission report from toilet paper. Temari knew him, though; she knew that in truth, Shikamaru was investing in knowing all he could because Naruto was his best friend. His devotion to the plucky, blond-haired ninja was no less than admirable.
Temari laid her head on her left arm and resumed scratching letters onto the paper. Her eyes became lidded with serenity, and her lips reflected the joy blooming in her heart as she reported all the mundanity of the last week.
"I've always wondered how you looked when you were writing me back."
Temari jerked out of her chair with a startled gasp, fumbling for the kunai pouch draped across the back of the furniture. Her uncoordinated movements slung the bag right off, sending kunai and shuriken scattering across the stone floor. Luckily, she didn't really need them. Once she realized who was perching in her windowsill like some smug Casanova, she puffed out her cheeks and pouted.
"Shikamaru Nara! You scared me half to death!"
"You? Scared?" the boy replied arrogantly with raised eyebrows. Cheeks burning, she crossed her arms and looked away with a huff. Of all the…!
"What are you even doing here? At this time of night, on top of that?!" He shrugged nonchalantly and picked up the pen she had been using to click it repeatedly. The monotonous clacking grated her already annoyed mental state, and so she stalked over to snatch it from him. "Seriously! Don't tell me you just snuck out of the Leaf Village for a leisurely jaunt?"
"And what if I did?"
Temari's face turned beet-red, and she whirled on her heel to present her back to him while she gathered her composure. Grunting, she kicked one of the kunai across the room. Its blade scraped over the uneven stone floor before crashing into the wall with a metallic ring. She peeked out of her peripheral vision when she realized Shikamaru was cackling.
"What? What's so funny?!"
"I'm just joking. I'm on a mission here. You should know that; didn't Gaara inform you?" No! No, he didn't! Temari fumed silently. As baby-faced and innocent as her little brother appeared, Kankuro could always tempt him into some deviousness. The puppet-master had likely concocted this low scheme to toy with Temari's emotions and was perched somewhere with some binoculars enjoying the spectacle. Huffing, she plopped down on the end of her bed and regarded Shikamaru critically.
"Regardless, what on earth prompted you to drop in unannounced?" He shrugged again and slid out of the window, carefully avoiding the desk situated underneath to drop down into the room. Frowning, he slipped his hands into his pants pockets and looked at her snootily, chin upturned.
"I wanted to see you, dummy." A hard lump formed in the base of Temari's throat; she could not force it down, no matter how many times she swallowed. Her palms bloomed with sudden sweat, which she discharged by running her hands compulsively over her comforter. A fire burned within the roundness of her cheeks, blazing and hot. When she peeked up at him through her lashes, he was smiling kindly at her. "It's just been a while."
"Yes, it has." She edged over on the bed and patted the space beside her. He crossed the room in a few strides and eased down beside her, stretching out his long legs and leaning back on his hands. "What's the mission?"
"Oh, you know, the usual bullshit. Bandits and rogues and disgruntled merchant caravans," he smirked as he looked at her amusedly. His sarcastic dispassion never ceased to make her laugh, because it was just so ridiculous how he could so effortlessly invalidate grave issues. His smirk widened as she giggled, covering her lips daintily with her hand. He suddenly caught her hand, gauging her reaction with glimmering black eyes as he brought it to his mouth to kiss along her fingertips. He was not romantic with his words, but every so often, he could beguile her with tender gestures. "I missed you, Temari," he breathed against the pads of her fingers. His eyes smoldered beneath his dark lashes, stoking the fire within her own body.
"I missed you, too." He tilted his head, lowering her hand to entwine their fingers together. Temari fluttered her eyelashes demurely and sucked in a breath, already anticipating his coming. His free hand threaded into her fluffy sand-colored hair, pausing to stroke along her cheekbone. He shifted on the bed, closer to her, and her eyes closed of their own accord. She exhaled exultantly when she finally felt his lips enveloping her own, and she hummed in satisfaction. She could feel him smirking against her mouth, the smug bastard, but then he pushed into her to deepen the kiss. His hand roamed her body- the length of her arm, the small of her back, the curve of her waist. She wrapped her arm around his neck to tangle her fingers in his coarse black hair, while their other two hands remained entwined between them.
Correspondence was instrumental in maintaining a long-distance relationship, but a surprise visit every once in a while certainly didn't hurt…