Banana Pineapple

Nara Shikamaru, twenty-one, the only one of the Rookie 9 who was still a Chuunin, married to the scariest woman he had ever met, was in heaven.

The sky overhead was a brilliant sapphire blue, fluffy white clouds scudding past slowly. The grass he was lying on was springy and cool, the air warm but not humid. Chouji and Asuma were nearby, both having escaped their wives for the day, the Akimichi happily munching on potato chips while their old sensei idly smoked a cigarette. They barely got a chance to get together anymore, between married life, missions, and children (Chouji had a one year old daughter, Asuma had rambuncious four year old triplets, Shikamaru had his first daughter on the way). Shikamaru smiled, the breeze making the grass wave lazily up at the clouds, Asuma's cigarette smoke drifting upwards as another chip bag crinkled to the ground.

All was in perfect balance; that is, until Shikamaru heard his wife screaming at him.

"--KAMARU, I KNOW you can hear me!"

He glanced back at Asuma and Chouji, the latter having paled considerably on his friend's behalf, the former giving a resigned shrug. So it goes. Shikamaru sighed miserably and started to sit up.

"If you don't open your eyes RIGHT NOW..."

He opened them. Something struck him as very odd. It dawned on him, a little belatedly as he was being literally kicked out the front door, that it was because it was still nighttime. The moon was still high in the sky, stars twinkling merrily. It was so late that the lampposts were extinguished, the street in pitch black darkness except for the golden patch of light streaming welcomingly from the doorway to his house. He blinked blearily at Temari, her outline visible in the glaring light, and winced as his wallet bounced right off of his head. Not another one.

These cravings were just getting ridiculous. He would tell her so, but the last time he'd dared to mention his thoughts out loud to her, she had hit him. Hard. He'd refrained ever since.

"What is it this time?" he asked wearily, through a yawn. Temari had long since learned to speak Shikamaru In The Wee Hours, so she understood the slurred blob of speech that sounded quite like 'waazi-eezyme?'

"Phish Food ice cream." It took the dazed Nara some time to figure out what she meant, the metaphorical light bulb going on after the door had been slammed shut. He felt around the dark street for his wallet, pocketed it, and stood up stiffly, trying to stretch away the haze of sleep still hanging around in his skull.

It didn't work.

As soon as he got moving, his feet took on a mechanical path and his eyes fluttered shut. He kept drifting right up until he walked face first into a door with a loud thump that left his nose smarting. He stood on the alien doorstep, rubbing his nose gingerly, trying to wake up yet again.

This happened every time. Temari seemed to wait for him to have a nice dream before getting another one of her cravings, then she'd wake him up and drive him out of the house at four in the morning to retrieve whatever it was.

He didn't even know wherehe could find such a thing as Phish Food ice cream. Chouji would probably be best to ask about that.

And what were the odds that it was his door that he'd walked into?

Said door had opened and Akimichi Chouji, his best friend, stood in the doorway with a knowing smile on his chubby face.

"Temari again?" the Akimichi asked. Shikamaru nodded, giving a huge yawn. "Thought so. C'mon in. What's she after this time?"

"Phish Food ice cream or something like that..." Another yawn. Chouji nodded and led the way towards the huge Akimichi kitchen, tugged open the freezer, and handed Shikamaru a pint of ice cream. Shikamaru eyed it doubtfully for a moment, prying the lid off to peer at the contents.

"It's not really fish," Chouji said kindly, knowing that his genius friend tended to be quite a bit slower than usual in the dead of the night. Shikamaru accepted this answer with a nod, although he did give the ice cream a sniff before putting the lid back on.

"Thanks, Chouji. You're a good guy." Shikamaru smiled at his best friend, who grinned back.

"Anytime. You'd better hurry back or that'll melt."

And off Shikamaru was for home again, walking as fast as he could move his tired feet across the cobbles of Konoha, the pint of ice cream absolutely freezing his hand. Up until just a month ago, Temari hadn't been too bad (considering) with her mood swings. She'd been mostly very chipper, incredibly clingy (even Ino had been surprised with how much so), and would laugh at just about anything, but the cravings had been getting much more frequent. And her violent side had come back with a vengeance. He wasn't too sure if he would survive her pregnancy at this rate, since he hadn't gotten a full night's sleep in weeks.

He padded up the stairs and back into his house, shutting the door behind him quietly. Temari was curled up on the couch, one arm hanging over the edge, the other resting on her slightly swollen belly. One midnight blue eye cracked open and regarded him silently as he held up the pint in victory.

"Phish Food, just like you asked," he announced tiredly. The other eye opened and he backed up a step, knowing the murderous gleam all too well when he saw it.

"I didn't say Phish Food," she growled. "I said banana pineapple! Can't you even remember something simple like that!"

How troublesome, Shikamaru thought, not bothering to resist as his wife bodily hauled him from the house and kicked him right back out the door again. He landed on the carton of ice cream, squishing it quite effectively all over one shoulder.

When Akimichi Chouji opened his door a second time, he was quite surprised at the frozen, sugary, lazy mess that stood on his doorstep.

"Banana pineapple," was all it said. Chouji nodded kindly and retrieved another carton of ice cream, handed it over, and sweatdropped on his friend's behalf.

"Better luck this time."

"Mmf. Thanks."