1A/N: Original version of this chapter? Is a rather strong lemon. That can't be found here; this is the R rated version. The real thing is on my MediaMiner account, or can be seen on my LiveJournal if I have you friended (if I don't, that's easy to fix!). Both can be found in my profile.

This was tricky for me to write (both this version and the more graphic one), so please let me know where I can improve!

Habits - Chapter 4

As luck would have it, Shikamaru's mom wasn't home when he got there. That likely wouldn't last long, as evidenced by the note lying on the kitchen table:

Gone to the Akimichis' for the evening, leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry.

Mom

P.S. Tell Temari she needs to stay for breakfast.

His eye twitched as he read the last line of the note, dropping it back on the table with a sigh. There was an after note of amusement in his mind as he realized that minutes before he and his mother had unknowingly only been a few houses apart.

In the sink was a plate, chopsticks, and an empty tupperware - Temari had obviously decided to take advantage of the leftovers since he wasn't going to. That was fine with him, since it meant she wouldn't be bitching about being hungry any time soon.

He headed upstairs and narrowly escaped a wrestling match with the fan leaning against the inside of his door. He'd have to talk to her about her choice of weapon-stashing locations.

It was instantly obvious that his bed was already taken; the kunoichi sleeping there had thrown his pillows to the foot of the bed and was tangled in the blanket, her body in and one foot out. He sighed, glancing out the window. The sun had barely begun to set, and it was a fairly warm evening... there was time yet to enjoy some cloud gazing. He patted his pockets, confirming the items within them before popping open the window and climbing onto the roof.

He sat there for a moment, eyes fixed on a random point in his back yard. His hands slid back into his pants, pulling out the carton and lighter, flicking both open and lighting one up. The action had become instinct in less than four days, and already his eyes had grown almost immune to the irritation from the smoke. He guessed that this was how it'd started for Asuma, though he didn't really know. It was something for his mind to consider, though; something to occupy the time that should have been spent playing board games with his teacher.

Shikamaru slumped back onto the roof, one hand pillowing his head while the other lazily moved his cigarette every now and then. There were barely enough clouds to justify watching tonight, but the sunset was growing gradually more brilliant. His eyes began to fall shut, his second hand joining the first behind his head as he contemplated sleep.

The weight that appeared on his chest came only a minute or two later, but he'd managed to drift off for an instant in between. He looked down over his chin at Temari, who was in turn staring off at the horizon, in the opposite direction of his face. He moved his arm back to rest on her waist, acknowledging her presence, but content with the silence, he decided to wait till she inevitably spoke to start conversing.

Her words didn't come until the cigarette had shrunk to nothing but a filter and been discarded. He felt one of her hands grip his shirt and knew she wanted to say something, so he gave her a half-hearted "Hmm?"

"I still remember when my mom died," she began, and for a moment, he wished he could see her face to know where this was going. "I hated Gaara for the first few years, for taking her away from me. Kankurou doesn't remember her, but I was four, so I remember..." She sighed, the breath moving her whole body. She tended to do that - she wasn't one to half-ass or hide anything, and emotions were no exception. "And when dad was killed by Orochimaru... I remember that, too. We all do."

She rolled over suddenly, holding her head up just a few inches above his chest, to look down at him. "And in the last few months... I nearly lost both of my brothers. For a while, I honestly thought I was going to be alone."

He reached up, touching her cheek softly with his thumb. It was odd to him to hear the normally ultra-tough kunoichi open up in this way. Her pain was radiating off her face, and for a moment he thought she was going to cry. That was before he realized that she already was.

"I don't know how much comfort it is to you, but you're not alone. I know how you feel - I've lost so many people and come close to losing others. In fact..." she closed her eyes, trying to hold back her remaining tears as she realized some had already fallen, "I think you're the only person important to me who hasn't come close to dying yet."

He used his thumb to wipe away the wetness from her face, understanding what she was trying to say. She'd been there when he'd nearly lost his best friend three years before. She knew that losing those close to him - one of the most common facts of shinobi life - was the one thing he couldn't handle, the one thing that would bring him to tears. And she was warning him that she was the same. It was a silent, implied version of the same agreement he'd made with his teammates less than an hour before: neither of them were allowed to die any time soon.

Leaning up to kiss her, he brought his hand behind her neck to comfort her softly. She sighed again, this time much softer, and laid her head back on his chest. They both rested there for a moment, gazing at each other, before Temari's instincts took over, reconnecting their lips and pushing him down by the shoulders. His lips twitched into a smirk before he began to lazily return her eager kisses.

Her hands worked their way off his shoulders and onto his neck, then into his hair, tangling and tugging and forcing his head to tilt to the right so she could kiss him better. The fact that the band tying back his hair managed to stay in place for a good five minutes was proof that she was being slow and gentle today - any other, he'd have been half naked by that time. Unless, of course, she'd gone after her own garments first.

Speaking of which, her kimono had been hiked up around her knees via some wriggling, enabling her to toss one leg over his hips. Now she was somewhere between straddling him and just laying on him. Her thoughts were too focused on the union of their mouths and tongues for her to pay attention to what her body was doing just yet. Temari continued to run her hand through his hair, combing it back from his forehead repeatedly while the other hand gripped loosely at the nape of his neck, holding him where she wanted him.

Shikamaru's hands hung loosely against her back, trailing her spine slowly with just enough force for it to not tickle. With each sweep he tugged at her obi a little more, loosening the sash until it fell open. She slid her knees up alongside his hips, raising her weight from his body. The black kimono hung from her sides, and what edges were still caught between them he tugged free before returning his hands to her sides.

Their mouths separated momentarily as she shifted, allowing them a moment to catch their breath and observe one another. Shikamaru's head lay cocked to one side, his long hair draped above his head where Temari had pushed it after freeing it from its tie. One of his eyebrows was raised as he lazily scanned her face, seemingly apathetic to the fact her half-naked body was only a few inches lower than that. For now he was content to marvel in the red tint covering her cheeks. He knew full well that her rosy face was purely a hormonal flush; Temari wasn't one to get embarrassed, and the only time he'd seen her blush was the first time she'd asked him for sex. That didn't change that it made her uncharacteristically cute. Normal, every day Temari was somewhat beautiful and definitely sexy - in a dangerous way - but the cute version was something only he saw.

That's probably why it made him smirk.

She rolled her eyes, certain the amused expression was the reaction to having a set of boobs displayed for him rather nicely. She hadn't yet mastered the art of reading the leaf shinobi's thoughts, and probably never would. Part of her knew it'd be best if she never did manage to figure him out - the mystery was a large part of what kept her interested.

An impatient shiver ran through her. Yes, it was true that right now they were both depressed, but in her mind, the best cure for sorrow was a major distraction, and she knew no distraction more powerful than sex. She dropped back down, lips diving for his neck as her elbows settled near his shoulders. He let out a sigh that was somewhere between enjoying himself and just being tired, prompting her to growl and increase her efforts.

She'd figured out a few months back that often he'd pretend to be less interested than he was, just to see what she'd try. Now it was a game they'd play; she'd pretend not to know and keep tormenting him until he reacted, and he'd pretend not to know she knew and enjoy whatever was thrown his way.

Only an idiot wouldn't have noticed the frustrated noises coming from his shoulder two minutes later, though, and so he grasped her by the arms, pushing her into his line of sight. Her face was tight, her lips pursed as she avoided his eyes. "Temari?" he asked, even as his slightly-clouded mind assembled a list of a dozen or so reasons for her reaction.

"Damn't." Her teeth clenched, grinding together as she fisted the shoulders of his shirt. "Damn't Shikamaru... do something. Please." She finally looked at him on the last word, her eyes piercing through his with a combination of annoyance and sorrow. "I need to forget about everything."

For a moment, his brain slowed further, the vision of the rainy day four days before filling his eyes for a moment, threatening to bring the wetness with it.

He could respect that. He needed to forget, too.

They'd had sex at least a dozen times since their relationship had progressed to that level, and not once had they done something that either considered "making love". Tonight, moving slowly against each other on the roof, with the sunset as a backdrop, there was just enough affection to their actions to change that. Though unspoken, their efforts to comfort each other were perfect compliments to their respective needs and personalities. Temari slowed down to let him have things his lazy way, relinquishing at least a little control of herself and the situation, and Shikamaru obeyed her wishes without any ulterior motives, aside from the fact he cared about her.

They laid there in silence for a few minutes, until both began to wonder if the other had fallen asleep. He knew she hadn't come a second time, but if she cared, she'd complain about it until one of them did something about it. For now it mattered that she was warm, unlike the air, and that he couldn't really move with her limbs tangled around him anyway.

"It's cold," Temari finally grumbled, "and dark. And someone's bound to notice two naked teenagers on a roof." She dropped her arms and legs from around his body, yawning as she stretched them out. He sat up slowly, shaking his head a little and glancing down at her. She flashed him a ridiculous grin, earning a genuine smile in return from him. "Love you," she announced, adding a tongue to her expression.

"Yeah," he shrugged, standing up a little shakily and pulling up his pants, "love you too." It was probably the closest they came to being mushy with one another, and it was one of the rare times they actually said the L word aloud; both knew the fact well enough that they seldom bothered saying it.

"Wrong way," she said, gesturing to his pants before standing herself, bringing their discarded clothing with her. He glanced down, then back at her, an eyebrow raised. "You're supposed to be taking them off right now. You know, in case I want another."

He shrugged again, ducking in through his window. "If you want that, you can do it yourself," he called after her.

"Well that's not fair." Their clothes landed inside just before her feet did. "Yours are better."

He turned around, walking up to her until their bare chests were pressed together again. Unconsciously she held her breath in sudden anticipation... until he reached past her and shut the window. She snorted, her eyes rolling and head shaking in annoyance.

His lips pressed softly to hers, and she suddenly forgot what had her so annoyed.

"Thanks for being here," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. "It means a lot."

She smiled up at him for a moment, nodding. One corner of her lips then rose higher, as she chided, "don't go getting all soft on me now. You've still got an exam to grade in a month."

He sighed, his default expression somewhere between bored and amused taking over his face as he plopped down on the bed. She sat beside him and watched as he fished the lighter out of his pocket and began playing with the lid in one hand. "You're not going to start smoking after sex too, are you?" she asked, only half teasing.

"No," he said, turning his attention from the ceiling to her. "That's something for when I want to remember someone who's not here anymore. If I want to remember you..." he used his other hand to motion for her to come closer, "I can just touch you. You're right here."