* let it snow *
The last place Tenten wanted to be on Christmas Eve was snowed in at work. But, well, here she was.
The sudden snowstorm had been predicted for the last few hours, sure, and Tenten had been painfully aware of it: she'd spent the last hours of daylight squaring away the lodge with enough fuel for the generator should it lose power, dealing with customers anxious enough to get out of dodge before the storm, and in general battening down the hatches. Time had escaped her. And now she was stuck at the very least until morning, when the damage could be seen and the trucks could make it up the mountain.
Tenten yawned as she leaned against the large wood check-in desk, rubbing her eyes. Most guests had made their plans by lunchtime and cleared out, making their way safely down to the valley to stay in subpar hotels with access to salted streets, accessible for travel. But a few stragglers had decided to hunker down—couples on an adventure or a honeymoon, one or two young families, and one large family party, apparently staying for some sort of reunion, hellbent on the skiing accommodations connected to the lodge.
They'd closed the slopes down just after lunch in preparation, and so Tenten had seen these guests milling about the lodge all afternoon as she darted from task to task. In fact, there was one member sitting in front of her right now.
Tenten's gaze alighted on him. He'd been reading for a good hour now, secured away from the main lanes of the lobby in a highbacked chair tucked next to the door to the outdoor porch.
The large family was distinctive in that they all looked very similar—dark hair, highbrow features, pale eyes and skin. Not that Tenten usually paid much attention to guests—she was usually too busy. But with the slowdown of foot traffic and the completion of all her duties, all Tenten had left to do was await the storm . . . and people watch.
It was a hobby of hers on slow days, especially in the summer, when business was all but nonexistent. She rarely got to indulge in it during the winter because things were always breaking that needed fixing or situations cropping up that required management. But it was going to be a long night ahead—an all-nighter, most likely—and Tenten couldn't help but amuse herself for the time being.
He appeared rather dignified, legs crossed in that fancy way she usually noted in older gentlemen, long fingers turning the pages of his book. She narrowed her eyes to try and make out the title—something about ancient philosophy or meditation. She raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips. It made him seem even more pompous.
Sighing, Tenten stretched her arms above her head before stooping down to fiddle with the radio placed on the shelf below the counter.
"According to the weather service, the storm is expected to hit around nightfall. Those up on the mountain should make immediate preparations for loss of power. . ."
Tenten sighed again and pulled out the box of flashlights and candles she'd assembled from storage. She'd already placed an assortment in occupied guest rooms, along with extra blankets, but had yet to distribute them around the lobby. She plucked out a battery powered lantern and several candles and moved from behind the desk towards the rows of couches and tables.
As she set them out, the guest from the chair asked in a soft, low tone, "Are you expecting to lose power?"
Tenten glanced over at him. His attention was squarely focused on her, one of his long, delicate fingers holding the place in his book. "That's what the radio said," she told him, walking over to another table to deposit a flashlight.
"The lodge does not possess a generator?"
"Yes. These are a precaution."
"Hm."
Tenten glanced at him again, unable to place his wordless response. She settled on challenging. She set a hand on her hip and faced him. "I've outfitted the rooms with candles or flashlights. You've got blankets. Everyone will still get dinner, and the kitchen will serve hot chocolate in here around eight."
He waved a hand at this and returned to his book. "No problem here. I'm merely anticipating my uncle making a complaint."
Tenten's brow furrowed. "Why? I can't control the storm."
He shrugged with an effortless grace that Tenten took care not to gawk at. "To him, that won't matter very much. It's the inconvenience of it."
"Well," Tenten said frostily, "this storm is inconveniencing everyone, not just him. So, I'll be sure to tell him that."
As she turned away to set out the last of her flashlights, Tenten noticed the hint of a smirk poised at the corner of his mouth.
~.~.~
The snow began to fall right at sunset. Tenten went out onto the porch, arms crossed tight against the chill as she considered the gray, stormy sky. "I really don't appreciate this," she said to the heavens. "You're really screwing up my plans."
As if in answer, a strong gust of wind swept around the porch, pushing Tenten forcefully back towards the door. She grumbled and slipped back inside.
She'd already called Gai and Lee with the bad news and spent the following ten minutes talking them down from driving a snowmobile up the mountain to retrieve her. With a frown, Tenten returned to the check-in desk, careful to skirt the knee of the guest in the chair by the door, still reading his book.
Their family traditions were varied in that they almost never did anything twice. One year Gai had hid their gifts all over the house and set them a time limit to find them; another time they'd spent all Christmas morning playing in the snow. Often they would play cards by the fire, eating spicy curry that Gai had spent all day making.
She was daydreaming about Christmases past, spent with Lee and Gai lounging around in pajamas, when a slim but firm hand taps the desk twice. Tenten blinked. The leader of the ski family, a tall, intimidating man with long, graying hair, considered her waspishly. "A little notice would have been appreciated for the storm," he began in a cold tone.
Tenten forced a tight smile to her mouth, her own gaze sharp. "That would have been a little hard to arrange, Mr. Hyuga, seeing that its an unpredictable winter storm."
"Surely you have experience with these . . . unforeseen winter storms," he retorted, raising a single, dark eyebrow. "Will I be reimbursed for this? My entire family and I were planning to spend the entire weekend skiing."
Tenten reached for the laminated refund policy, pulling it across the desk for Mr. Hyuga's perusal. "As you probably read when you made your reservation, we can't offer refunds due to inclement weather. But I'd be happy to reschedule your ski passes for another weekend."
Mr. Hyuga's frown deepened. "I'm afraid that's unacceptable." He treated her to a condescending glare.
Tenten stared back, pushing a thin smile onto her mouth. "Well, I'm afraid that's our policy."
Mr. Hyuga tapped his hand on the countertop, clearly attempting to test Tenten's will. When Tenten made no further consolations, he said, "We will remain here until the storm passes in the morning. I will reschedule our passes then." Confidentially, he leaned towards her. "A piece of free advice, from a businessman: the customer is always right." With a short, sharp rap on the desk, he sent her another withering glare and turned away.
Tenten huffed and squatted down behind the desk, reaching for next year's calendar to begin reviewing dates for Mr. Hyuga to consider the following day.
"I told you he wouldn't be pleased."
Tenten looked up grumpily. The guest who'd been reading, the one who had warned her of his uncle's wrath, was leaning against the corner of the desk, looking amused. Tenten snorted in answer, slapping the calendar down. "Luckily for him, I've disappointed guests before."
"This probably won't be the end of this," he cautioned. "I'm sure he'll call your manager or something equally high maintenance before he leaves."
Tenten smirked. "Unfortunately for him, I am the manager. But I'd be happy to give him the owner's number, if he wants it. Not that he'll get anything he wants to hear with her either."
He raised an eyebrow in slight surprise. "You're the manager? Shouldn't you have other staff setting out candles and blankets?"
Tenten folded her arms against her chest, leaning against the desk. "It's not really any of your business, but I sent most of my staff home before the storm, and my night manager is on vacation." She shrugged. "If you want to make a complaint too, I can give you a comment card." She pointed to the neat stack of cards near the desk's corner, next to the brochures.
He shook his head, eyes dancing with amusement. "I'll leave that to my uncle. But thank you. . ." His eyes dipped down to the nametag pinned to her chest. "Tenten."
"You're welcome." She held his gaze for another few seconds before he moved away, shooting her an intrigued glance over his shoulder.
~.~.~
At eight on the dot, the remaining kitchen staff—the head chef and his daughter—brought in two large urns of hot chocolate and a stack of mugs. Tenten helped them set up the station along the lobby's back wall. The families with young children came down to enjoy and play board games, giving the room a vibrant, joyous sound. From her desk, Tenten watched a honeymooning couple sneak down and fill their cups before darting back up to their room. She smiled, eyes drifting around the room to soak in the cozy moment. Her gaze stopped again on the reader from earlier.
He'd moved from his chair by the door to the end of the lobby, far removed from the festivities happening near the hot chocolate station. She'd noticed him in the dining room at dinner, when she'd run down to pickup a to-go box Ayame had set aside for her. He'd been eating with his family, several places removed from his uncle. He'd been flanked by two women, similar-looking enough they could have been his sisters. They'd been talking between themselves, and he'd paid them no mind. As she'd passed them all by to return to the front desk, she'd noticed the book he'd been holding open on his lap, underneath the table.
Tenten smirked and slipped out from behind the counter to approach the hot chocolate station. She filled one thick-handled mug with Ayame's recipe, and, after a moment of deliberation, dropped in a single marshmallow.
Tenten approached him with a small smile, reading the title of his book more carefully. "You don't want any hot chocolate?"
He looked up, eyes floating from her face to the cup in her hands. "I don't—"
"Before you say no," Tenten interrupted, "I'll have you know this stuff is like candy. It's delicious and a lodge specialty."
He paused, considering, before taking the mug held out to him. Eyes on her, he took a sip. She smiled when he winced. "It's hot," she belatedly warned.
His mouth pursed with a smirk he seemed unwilling to release. "It is good," he said, swallowing as he set the mug down on the coffee table in front of him. "Thank you."
"Sure," Tenten said, moving to the fireplace to restoke the logs.
As she stretched the poker into the fiery depths, he said to her back, "You must not have a very loyal staff if they went home so willingly, leaving you with all the work for the storm."
Tenten rolled her eyes, cracking a few logs open with the poker. She reached for a fresh log and eased it in. "Or maybe I just have a forceful personality that demands they respect my judgment."
"Touché."
With the fire on its way to roaring again, Tenten got to her feet and was about to return to the desk when he continued, looking at her intently, "How long have you been managing the lodge?"
Tenten paused behind the couch opposite him, head tilted to the side. He didn't strike her as a talkative person, or even a social one, if his solitude the entire afternoon weren't enough of an indication. So it puzzled her a little to be on the receiving end of his unwavering stare, one long finger holding his place in his book. It dawned on her slowly, and a slow smile spread across her mouth.
"You don't have to make up for your uncle's rudeness, you know," she said. "I've gotta tough skin."
His expression remained impassive as he answered, "I'm Neji."
"Nice to meet you," Tenten replied breezily and resumed her journey to the front desk.
~.~.~
The children tired out around nine and began to get whiny, leaving their parents no choice but to whisk them off to bed, leaving the lobby quiet again once more. Tenten turned the radio up, listening for storm updates as she paged through a catalogue for hotel supplies.
The reader—Neji—was the only soul present. From Tenten's sneaking glances at him, she could tell he was almost finished with his book. She had an itching curiosity to ask him about it but shoved it down, keeping her focus on soap she could buy in bulk.
Her attention, however, was drawn up when Neji rose from the couch to walk over to the fireplace, reaching for the poker. She was out behind the desk like a shot, calling out, "I can do that."
He glanced at her over his shoulder, fingers wrapping around the poker. "It's no trouble. I just saw it getting low."
"I've got it," she said, arriving at his side. She held out her hand for the poker. Neji tentatively gave it to her, though he didn't move back to the couch as Tenten encouraged the fire.
Tenten cleared her throat and attempted polite conversation: "So, are you as upset about the skiing as your uncle?"
"Not really."
Tenten set the poker back in its metal holder. "Oh?"
Neji moved to the edge of the fireplace, leaning against the mantle. "I'd rather be reading."
"Well," Tenten said with a smile, "you've definitely got your wish with that. You've been in here all afternoon." Her face flushed a little at admitting that she'd noticed, and hoped he'd credit it to how close she was standing to the fireplace.
"I was reviewing a text for a class." Neji went back to the couch and crossed his legs again in that fancy way. At Tenten's look, he clarified, "I'm a professor."
Tenten perched on the edge of the couch opposite him. "What do you teach?"
"Philosophy."
Tenten's lips twitched. "So a philosophy professor was dragged to a ski lodge for a family reunion?"
He offered her a weak smile. "It's less of a reunion and more an excuse to foster familial competition."
Tenten raised an eyebrow. "By skiing?"
He nodded, a twinge of self-consciousness crossing his face. "It's . . . a family tradition of sorts."
"Really?" Tenten asked.
He released a sheepish smile, one finger tapping the couch arm. Slowly, he said, "My father was an Olympic skier. Ages ago."
Tenten's eyebrows widened. "That's cool. Did you ever—"
"Yes."
Tenten did not press; his tone had been tense, and she knew how to take a hint. She got up and went to the window, trying to peer out into the darkness of the winter storm.
Neji went on, after a moment, "I skied competitively until I was eighteen, and then I had an accident. While I was recovering, I decided I wanted to go to college, which led me to teaching."
"Does all your family ski competitively then?" Tenten asked, watching the dark flurries outside.
"Most of them. My uncle is a bit too old to do it now."
"What about your father?"
A pause, and then: "He passed away a few years ago."
Tenten turned back to him. Neji was settled into the couch, studying the fire. She bit the inside of her cheek and changed the subject. "What was your book about?"
"It's an analysis of Abe's views on zen and western thought."
"Sounds like a difficult subject."
"It isn't. It's a text I'm reviewing for my freshmen students. Intro to philosophy."
Tenten snorted and turned to perch on the couch. "Sounds like you're a hard teacher."
Neji did not seem offended by this assessment, replying primly, "I try to give all my students a comprehensive approach to the world. What they do with it is up to them."
Tenten shot him a skeptical look. "I doubt there are a lot of freshmen who are dying to confront their own existentialism. They're too busy thinking about getting their work done on time or going to Friday's party."
Neji smirked. "Are you speaking from your own experience?"
Tenten grinned back. "Maybe."
"What did you study? Hospitality?"
"Nope," she answered with a wry expression. "Engineering." Neji shot her a quizzical look. Tenten explained with a shrug, "I didn't finish. My godfather had an accident that put him in a wheelchair my junior year. I moved back home to help out."
He said nothing for a moment, simply staring at the carpet in front of him. Tenten released another dry smile and got to her feet, intending to walk around the outside of the lodge for a survey of conditions.
Neji called her back as she reached the desk. "You're not going to go back to school?"
Tenten laughed. "I don't really have time for that."
"I'm sure you could arrange something with the college, given your circumstances."
Tenten shook her head and gave him a kind smile. "Maybe, maybe not. It's not something I'm losing sleep over. I know I made the right choice."
Tenten busied herself with gathering her thick coat and a set of keys, painstakingly ignoring the silence from the couch where he sat. When she reemerged, he said, "I'm sure you're more than able to do both—attend to your godfather and finish school."
Tenten snickered. "What gives you that impression? You don't even know me."
His hand twitched where it was lying on the couch cushion. His gaze flicked away to study the fireplace again, shrugging one shoulders as he replied, "Just a feeling."
Tenten hid her smile and turned towards the door to the porch.
~.~.~
"If you're going to start meditating, the way you breathe is essential."
Tenten eyed him, thrown by his serious expression. When she'd come back in from the porch, she'd innocently asked him about the sorts of things he taught his students, what he studied himself. Their conversation had quickly led them to meditation and its benefits. Laughingly, she cautioned him, "I didn't say I was going to start meditating. I was just asking—"
"Close your eyes."
Tenten stared at him, eyebrow quirking. Neji waited, considering her silently. With a sigh, Tenten obliged him, wrapping her hands around her crossed legs and shutting her eyes.
"You should breathe and attempt to focus only on that. Counting helps."
Tenten felt a smile touch her lips, but she pushed it away, ignoring the niggling vulnerability at the forefront of her mind. She listened to the quiet that descended on the room, wondering how she looked to Neji, sitting here with her eyes closed, before she remembered she was supposed to be trying to clear her thoughts.
Grimacing, Tenten began counting to ten silently in her head, attempting to focus on her breaths. But too soon, her thoughts fled back to other things—the snowfall outside, the checklist she'd have to do in the morning, what Lee and Gai were up to, the man sitting across from her, no doubt watching her attentively.
Tenten flushed and cracked one eye open. Neji regarded her with barely concealed amusement. "It takes time," he said. "How long was it before you lost count?"
Tenten cleared her throat. "Probably three seconds."
His mouth quirked with a smug grin. His laugh was a low chuckle, pleasing to the ear. Tenten smiled back and sank back into the couch. "I don't think meditation is my thing. Hard to turn off my thoughts. Except when I'm fixing something."
"Like what?"
Tenten hummed, eyes lifting to the rafters as she thought. "Cars, sometimes. Locks on doors. Radios. The industrial dishwasher in the kitchen. I kind of . . . feel everything fade away until it's just the part and my hands, figuring out the problem."
Neji mused on this for a moment before saying, a small smile on his lips, "I suppose that could be considered a form of meditation. Maybe you don't need formal teaching after all."
Tenten had just opened her mouth to respond when the lights flickered out and the general hum of electricity quieted, the only illumination the fiery glow from the fireplace.
"Dammit," Tenten muttered, immediately marching over to the front desk. She reached for her coat, shoving one arm through as she reached for her toolbox on the bottom shelf of the desk.
"What happened?" Neji asked, getting to his feet.
"The generator went out," Tenten said. She flipped open her toolbox and checked its contents before shutting it, plucking her keys off the hook on the wall. She was halfway to the backdoor when she noticed Neji was right behind her. "What are you doing?" she asked, flicking on her flashlight.
"Going with you," he said, as if it were the most normal thing to do in the world.
Tenten scoffed, pausing with her hand on the door as she turned back to him. His face was eerily lit from her flashlight; Tenten couldn't shake the determined look in his eyes. "To do what? Stand around and be cold? Go tell your family everything's fine. I'll have it fixed in a second."
"We're wasting time standing here talking," Neji replied, raising an eyebrow. "Just go."
Huffing, Tenten stepped out into the night, flashlight tight in her fist, toolbox in her other hand. The generator was on the back of the building, placed on a slab of elevated concrete near the maintenance shed where they kept the bigger landscaping equipment. As they neared, Tenten could already see the problem—the snow had started to pile up around the exhaust. She hurried over and brushed a gloved hand against the vents; icicles and snow fell away. Tenten sighed, relieved it wasn't as bad as she feared.
"What's the problem?" Neji asked, drawing up next to her.
"Snow buildup, I think." She stuck the end of the flashlight between her teeth and set her toolbox down in the snow, pawing through it for her scraper.
The wind was whistling down the mountain, an eerie howl racing through the trees to hit the side of the lodge. Tenten winced from the cold stinging her face, wrapping her hand around her scraper.
Neji moved from her side to peer around the other side of the generator. "It's about knee high on this side."
Tenten spat the flashlight into her open fist. "Damn," she cursed under her breath, knocking ice from the ventilation. To Neji, she said, "There's a shovel in the shed over there. Could you—?"
Neji's footsteps crunched back to her side. When he made no other sound, she turned to him, eyebrow raised in question. "Flashlight," Neji said, holding his open hand out to her.
Tenten grimaced, but said nothing, handing it to him. Neji stomped away through the snowdrift. She hacked mindlessly at the glazed ice over the vents, blinking quickly to try to make out the trouble spots.
A hand touched her shoulder and Tenten paused, gloves wet and slippery. In the dim light, Neji was holding out the flashlight, shovel in hand. "Here," he said softly, lifting the flashlight to her mouth.
Obediently, Tenten opened her lips and Neji carefully placed the flashlight back between her teeth. His face illuminated, Tenten could not pretend she couldn't see his obvious smirk.
Without another word, he departed to the other side of the generator. Tenten's cheeks stung a darker shade of red, and she pushed all thoughts away to focus singularly on getting the generator operational again.
She finished removing all the ice before Neji completed shoveling. Tenten went to the control panel and unlatched the door, analyzing the error message blinking on the screen. Experimentally, she flipped a few switches, gripping the flashlight in her free hand.
"What now?" Neji sighed, leaning against the shovel.
"I'm going to try to restart it. Let's pray that's all it needed." With a grim face, Tenten typed in a reset code.
The generator shuddered, the control panel blinking on standby. Tenten waited with bated breath, Neji moving to her side. After a moment, the generator shuddered once more and began to run. Inside the lodge, Tenten could see the lights flicker on again. She sighed in relief.
"Does this always happen?" Neji asked.
Tenten shook her head and shut the control panel. "Not really. The wind doesn't help. I was going to have a snow hood built this season, but I had some other things come up before I could get it set up."
Neji analyzed the generator, straightening. "What's to stop it from icing over again?"
"Me," she said with a shrug. "I'll come out a few more times tonight to make sure the snow doesn't get too high."
Neji's gaze alighted on her. "I'll help you."
Tenten rolled her eyes, reaching for the shovel. Neji let her take it without complaint. "You don't have to do that. Besides, you'll probably be in bed long before then."
Neji gave another of his effortless shrugs. "Maybe. But I doubt it."
He walked with her back towards the lodge, opening the door for her as she reached it. Tenten turned back to thank him, only then realizing she couldn't say a thing; the flashlight was again between her teeth, hands full with the shovel and her toolbox. She could see him clearly, illuminated by the yellowed light of the flashlight. His face was reddened from the wind, hair a tangled mess. Tenten watched his gaze dip, briefly, to the flashlight pursed between her lips, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Wordlessly, Neji reached for the shovel in her hand and set it against the door.
Heart racing, Tenten sheepishly pulled the flashlight from her mouth. "Thanks," she said.
"Sure," Neji replied, staring back.
Tenten stumbled back into the lodge, boots slick with snow, painfully aware of the flush trickling down her cheeks to spread along her neck.
~.~.~
They went out twice more to check on the snow accumulation near the generator, alerted by an alarm Tenten had set on her watch. The second time, as they made their way up the stairs back into the lodge, Tenten felt Neji's hand on her back, steadying her should she fall on the slippery steps. Tenten pretended not to notice.
They finished off the remains of the hot chocolate around three a.m., which is about the time they turned off all the lights, spouting some nonsense about conserving electricity. And there they sat, the clock ticking on towards four, blanketed on the couch and gazing at the roaring fire, when Neji asked, "Are you any good at chess?"
Tenten's only answer was to grin.
She found an old, battered board underneath other newer games in the cabinet below the lobby television. When she set it on the couch between them, he said, looking over the dusty case, "Looks like it hasn't been used since the place was built."
Tenten rolled her eyes and shook the lid off the case. Inside were small, polished rosewood and mahogany pieces, laid out all in a row atop a gorgeous, checkered board. Tenten bit her lip to contain her thrill of excitement, watching Neji's long fingers as he reached in to gather pieces in his palm.
They set up the board between them, dropping the case to the side of the couch. When Tenten stretched her hand out for the rosewood queen, Neji inquired, "You don't want to make the first move?"
Tenten shook her head. "I like to see what I'm working with first."
Neji said nothing more, ducking his head as he meticulously placed his mahogany pieces on the appropriate squares. He was, however, unable to hide his smirk from Tenten's watchful eye.
The first few passes were fairly customary: a pawn here, a knight advanced, a feint of a bishop. But things did not begin to get interesting until Tenten noticed Neji's strategy. She snorted and he looked up. "What?"
"That's not going to work," she said, an eyebrow raised in challenge.
Neji sat back against the couch arm, tilting his head in interest. "Oh, really? Why not?"
"Because I'll check you here," she said, pointing to the confluence of her rook and bishop.
"That's not my objective," Neji replied, the beginnings of a smile on his lips.
Tenten scoffed. "Whatever you say," she muttered.
Neji's smile grew; he pinched two fingers on the head of his knight and moved it to capture a pawn on the opposite side of the board. "Where did you learn to play?"
Tenten analyzed the board, saying, "When my godfather had his accident, he spent a lot of time confined to the couch—doctor's orders—for his recovery. He got bored a lot, but this cheered him up. He said it kept his brain sharp." She thoughtfully pushed her queen forward to the space by her rook.
Neji mulled this over, fingertips alighting on his knight again as he considered his move. "You seemed to have picked it up easily," he commented, sliding the knight forward and up.
"Gai's really competitive. So's Lee." She placed her pawn diagonally to his knight. "I guess I am too."
Neji released a low chuckle, hand reaching out for his knight again. Tenten anticipated his move—she stretched out her fingertips for her queen. Neji completed his move, and Tenten eagerly knocked over his knight with her queen. Her knuckles brushed against his fingertips, and Tenten's cheeks warmed. She hastily drew back, his knight clutched tight in her fist. "Sorry," she muttered.
Neji made no reply. When Tenten chanced a glance at him again, he was speculating the board with a singular focus, a tinge of color on his face.
They played in silence for the rest of the game, which ended when Neji pinned Tenten's king into a corner with a pawn, a bishop, and his last remaining knight.
He smiled, on the edge of gloating, when Tenten huffingly snatched up his pieces and began placing them on her end of the board. "Best two out of three," she said.
Tenten won the second game, filled with a vengeance, but their third game ended in a sleepy draw, following a short argument over whether Neji had touched a piece or not (he hadn't, but submitted to Tenten's wrath, smiling all the while).
They packed the board away and leaned tiredly against the couch, watching the fireplace.
"I can't remember the last time I stayed up this late," Neji murmured, rearranging the blanket covering his legs.
"I can," Tenten said, studying Neji's socked feet, crossed at the ankles, as they peeked out from beneath his blanket. "Two years ago, Lee and I pulled an all-nighter for New Year's. Bar hopped every dive bar in the valley, which is probably a total of four establishments, then went home and played cards with Gai until sunrise."
"Everything you've said about your family sounds . . . pleasant." The clear longing in his voice made Tenten's chest tight.
"They're good eggs," she said. "Loud and nosy, but good." Tenten paused then continued in a low tone, "I'm sure they'd be game anytime you have a notion to play cards or chess. Just know you'll have to endure a thousand questions first."
Neji turned, catching her eye. Tenten gazed back, on tenterhooks. Neji's lips parted, but he did not immediately speak, staring at her intently. A look of uncertainty passed his features, and then, in a low, intimate tone: "I'd like that."
Tenten leaned her head into the couch, a soft smile alighting on her mouth. She sleepily replied, "Open offer. Anytime you want, Neji."
Neji blinked slowly, a matching smile touching his lips. "Thank you."
Tenten nodded once, twice, and then could see no more.
~.~.~
The morning light hit Tenten's face and she shifted, yawning wide. It took a good minute for her to open her eyes, ensconced in comfort as she was, but when she did, the lobby was bathed in white.
The windows and doors were knee-high with packed snow, glistening with the bright, early dawn sunshine.
Tenten blinked, sighing, and moved her cheek—it brushed against the smooth cashmere of a sweater-clad shoulder. Tenten froze. Her gaze darted to the smooth, sharply dignified features of a swooningly beautiful, sleeping man. His arm was thrown around her, head tilted back to rest on the back of the couch.
Tenten swallowed, carefully beginning to disentangle herself. "Neji," she whispered.
He stirred, brow furrowing as he slowly blinked himself into wakefulness. His gaze met hers in brief confusion before shifting to mild embarrassment. "I don't remember falling asleep," he told her, running a hand down his face.
Tenten forced a short laugh. "Me neither." She successfully loosed herself from his arms and stood, straightening her shirt that had ridden up during slumber. Neji's face reddened, glancing towards the sunlight streaming in through the windows.
"What time is it?" he asked, standing suddenly.
Tenten glanced at her watch. "Seven. What—"
"Neji."
They both turned towards the voice. Hiashi Hyuga stood by the check-in desk, coat and bag in hand. He regarded them with a stern gaze; Tenten felt her cheeks heat.
"Yes, Uncle?" Neji murmured from his place behind Tenten.
"Please get ready to depart. The car service I called is on their way up the mountain as we speak."
Without a word, Neji moved past Tenten, their shoulders brushing. Once he'd passed by his uncle, Neji glanced at her over his shoulder and imparted a small smile. Tenten smiled back tightly, quickly crossing to the desk.
Hiashi silently proffered his credit card and Tenten checked it against her records, reaching with her other hand for a stack of vouchers. As she began filling them out, handing Hiashi back his card, he said, "I wish to make a complaint about the service we've received."
Tenten smiled and pointed to the comment cards. "Feel free to leave your comments on one of those cards, Mr. Hyuga."
Hiashi slid one of the cards off the top and reviewed it for a moment. "How can I be assured my comments will be reviewed by the appropriate people?"
Tenten sighed and slid over his receipt and the stack of vouchers for the skiing. "I promise I'll get them into the right hands, Mr. Hyuga."
"See that you do," he replied. He sent her one last, stern, lingering look before retreating to a corner of the lobby to set his bags down.
Tenten busied herself with ignoring him, switching on the radio. ". . . crews have been out since before dawn to clear a path down to the valley. The main mountain road should be cleared by mid-morning. . ."
Pleased with the developments, Tenten departed for the kitchen, in desperate need of a cup of coffee.
~.~.~
Hiashi's car service arrived at eleven a.m., not two minutes behind the snowplow trucks. Tenten watched all of the Hyuga gather in the lobby with their luggage. Neji was the last to arrive, dressed warmly in a long black coat and scarf.
"Neji, where have you been?" called out a short girl, around her early twenties.
He offered no answer to her question, dismissively shaking his head once before approaching the desk. Tenten began, with a smirk, "Looks like you'll have some explaining to do."
Neji glanced over his shoulder, back to his awaiting family. The girl, along with another woman who looked similar, if not a bit older, stared back at him curiously. "What do you think I should tell them?"
"You could say you were shoveling snow."
Neji smirked. "I doubt that would alleviate all their questions."
Tenten raised an eyebrow. "How are you going to answer them then?"
Neji's fingers tapped the desk in a thoughtful rhythm, watching her carefully. Tenten crossed her arms on the counter, staring back. Her lips twitched, and she saw Neji mirror her expression.
With one hand, he withdrew a card from his pocket and slid it across the table to her. "This is my business card. . . If you ever wanted to talk again . . . about meditation or chess or . . . anything else."
Tenten held it up between two fingers, biting the inside of her cheek as she read the phone number, printed in small black italics. When her eyes met his again, Neji looked sheepish. He readjusted his bag and took a step back from the desk. "Merry Christmas," he said in a soft tone. "Tenten."
Tenten merely smiled back, turning the card over in her hands. Neji gave a short wave and returned to his relatives. They enfolded him into their circle, and then, en masse, left the lodge through the front door.
Tenten looked back down at the card in her hands, glancing over his name once more, before sliding it into her breast pocket.
~.~.~
Tenten had waited a few days before calling the number printed on his business card, absently chewing on her fingernail, but after a few rings it went to voicemail. She'd hung up, cheeks flushing at the sound of his brisk voicemail message. Resolved, Tenten had tucked the business card into the back of her wallet and willfully forgotten the whole encounter.
Of course, when she'd come into work a couple of days after New Year's, her coworker had showed her a message left for her. One glance at the name had Tenten dealing with a surge of nervous excitement, but she'd quietly tucked the note into her bag to deal with later.
By the end of her shift, she'd come to the conclusion that the whole thing was a little weird—probably set off by the unexpected circumstances they'd found themselves in, and nothing more than that. It couldn't be more than that, Tenten thought.
The second week of January saw a resurgence of business, though it was nothing compared to what the lodge usually had prior to and during the holidays. Another winter storm was expected that late afternoon, generally expected to be tamer than the previous. It was expected to stretch into the evening before tapering off in the middle of the night, and Tenten was bustling around making arrangements.
She was stooped behind the counter, one ear pressed to the radio as she shuffled through her storm checklists when a knock resounded on the counter's wooden top. Tenten sighed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes as she called up, "I'll be with you in a minute."
A pause, and then: "On my drive up, I heard the weather doesn't look good for this evening."
Tenten stilled and slowly stood from her crouched position behind the counter.
Neji was leaning against the countertop, an overnight bag thrown over his shoulder. He was wearing a tentative smile, as if he were unsure. Tenten's cheek twitched. "It's going to be pretty nasty, actually," she said, clearing her throat.
He nodded, as if this was expected. "It's a good thing I have experience with winter storms, then." Neji paused, then amended, "Well, staying in a lodge during a winter storm, at least."
Tenten tamped down on the thrill threatening to sweep across her face. Smirking, she said, "Checking in?"
Notes:
- Abe refers to Masao Abe, a Japanese Buddhist philosopher.
- Please know that I know almost nothing about generators, and had to read a few articles. If I misrepresented any of the facts, I beg your pardon.
It almost killed me not to have more conflict in this piece, but I hope you all enjoyed the uncharacteristic fluff. I couldn't resist giving another gift to all of you NejiTen lovers this holiday season. It's been such a hard year. Please know I'm wishing all of you well as we approach the new year. -KNO