Title: The Cold
Word Count: 498
Characters: AsuShika
Written for Asuma's birthday! Tanjoubi Omedeto Asuma-san!
Shikamaru groaned; it was hot and he was feeling irritable. He rolled onto his side under the many covers which were currently smothering him. Asuma had insisted that he bundle up because something in the jounin's mind had told him that Shikamaru would be chilly from his cold if he didn't. Why had he even came here? It was only a little better that home but a little was probably better that nothing. At least his Asuma wasn't drowning him in soup as his mother did. He had a strange feeling that he barely escaped after the groggy "Morning, be back" he gave her as be bolted out the door.
He sighed as his attention returned to the caretaker who was happily chatting on and on about old memories involving Ino doing something which had been outrageous and insane but Shikamaru wasn't really listening. He saw no reason too. He came here to escape his mother not to wallow in a pit of 'fond' memories.
This blankets were really starting to grind his nerves. Sitting up, he threw them off and frowned. 'How ironic,' he thought. It was chilly after all. He should really have thought that one through some more but it was too late for that. He swung his feet around so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed and stared at a slightly surprised Asuma.
"I'm thirsty," he stated flatly, the stuffy nose somewhat distorting his voice.
Asuma smile and passed him a box of tissue before exiting the room. Shikamaru took them and proceeded to blow his nose not pleased with the color mucous on the paper. He looked up when Asuma returned, glass of water in hand accompanied by two cold pills. He threw the pills into his mouth and washed them down hurriedly with the water returning the glass when he was done. He was rewarded with an affectionate smile and ruffle of his hair which hung loose to his shoulders.
Shikamaru glanced to his left as Asuma took a seat on the bed. They sat in silence of a while. Shikamaru enjoyed it though a part of him wanted Asuma to start with his annoying stories again.
"Are you feeling any better?" Asuma asked removing the cigarette for a moment.
Shikamaru wasn't usually irrational but perhaps it was the cold which was interfering with his chain of thought. In one swift movement, he had turned toward Asuma and kissed him. Asuma didn't react. Neither to the kiss nor to his patient's rush to return to the covers he was once under. Shikamaru pulled the sheets over his head in an attempt to disappear. He could feel his cheeks burning as he mentally curses himself for his actions. He waited in silence for Asuma to do something, anything. He felt the weight lift from the bed and the sound of door closing was heard not to long after. Shikamaru sighed. Why had he come here in the first place?