Disclaimer: No seriously, people, I do not own Naruto. Shika would be kicking bad guy ass most of the time if I did.
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A little more.
Just a little more.
Shikamaru stared hard at his reflection, a towel encasing the lower half of his body to just below the knees. A razor blade was the sharpest thing that interacted with a man on a daily basis, and he did not wish to cut himself. Again. What was the use of Mother Nature granting facial hair to the male species, huh? He read somewhere that only seven percent of some women in a survey liked facial hair, remembering how his dad told him on one occasion that his mother had not quite approved of him growing a goatee at first. Either way he had no plans to start resembling his father even more than he already did.
"UNCLE SHIKA!"
The sudden shrill shriek caused a small cut next to his bottom lip in his fright, and he cussed quietly to himself, wiping at the stain and then wincing as the aftershave stung the affected area afterwards. He heard rapping at the bathroom door that could only have been Temari. What did she want now?
"Nakimushi, she won't get dressed and now she's locked herself in your bedroom!"
"It's not like I'm dressed now so unless you don't mind me getting her out while in only a towel, would you wait until I'm done?"
Temari sighed to herself as she leaned against the wall next to the door, the girl's deep magenta frock lying still in front of her; left on the floor of the hallway after the girl had escaped from the kunoichi's grasp. Kimiko had not felt like wearing that one. She wanted to wear one of Temari's yukatas, which she had weeded out when she found the woman's rucksack the night before. Thankfully, she was found out before she could find the rest of Temari's clothes, or it would have been embarrassing. Shikamaru was the one who found her after all, with a violet yukata in her lap while she scoured for another. She did not want him knowing what else she wore.
As to what he was wearing now…oh, right. Nothing but a towel. She tried not to laugh aloud once an image came into her mind. She used to live with two younger brothers, after all, and that meant she had seen men like that before, albeit though a carelessly unlocked bathroom door had been the cause. Both Kankuro and Gaara had the same reaction each time it happened; their eyes would widen and the color would drain from their faces before being replaced by a flood of raspberry red. They would shriek as though they were mice in terrible pain, before promptly slamming the door in her face. She grew up surrounded by the male species, so she wouldn't give a damn if he did emerge half-naked from his bathroom.
The door to the bathroom clicked open and Shikamaru went out clad in a t-shirt and knee-length pants, a tiny cut barely visible on his cheek as he marched off to find the keys to unlock the door. A towel hung on the shower rack, wet. Probably the one he used.
Wait a minute…
It was Temari's towel. The guy had been using her towel to dry himself and to wrap around his waist. She stuck her tongue out at the thought in disgust, before plopping the offensive towel in the washing machine. Usually, she was not one to care too much about hygiene while on missions, but this case had to be an exception. Then an image came into her mind--Nakimushi with a lavender towel with violet trimming around his waist, hair dripping and wearing a scowl. She promptly chuckled to herself. Meanwhile, Shikamaru tried coaxing Kimiko out of the room first before he would try his key on the door.
"Kimiko-chan, what's wrong?"
"Pretty yukata," squeaked the three-year-old girl. It sounded like she was crying, choking a little on her phlegm, "Auntie Tem-tem won't let me wear one."
That sentence was one of the longest Kimiko had ever said. For a three-year-old, she did not talk much, and Kurenai had considered speech therapy for her at one time, before he convinced her to give the girl some time. Children all developed at different rates, after all.
"Auntie Tem-tem's yukata is much too big for you, my dear. Will you come out for Uncle Shika now?"
He heard her give a tiny cough before answering 'no'. He could not believe he just said 'my dear', but he guessed it was appropriate for a girl he had helped raise from birth. It just seemed so…motherly, like a woman should be the one saying it. Turning towards the plodding of light footsteps, he watched as Temari stood in front of the door and commanded,
"Sarutobi Kimiko. Out of the room. NOW."
Her bluntness was expected, but not suited for speaking to a kid, at least to him. She would have sounded terrifying to the average twelve year old, let alone a kid a quarter of that age. He heard the little girl start bawling, letting out high-pitched cries and little hiccups. What had his roommate done? Her next move, however, baffled him.
"Kimiko-chan," the blonde one put her hand on the door as her tone of voice suddenly softened, like a sword becoming a butter knife, "Uncle Shika and Auntie Tem-tem want you to come out and put your dress on, okay? Now you've made Auntie Tem-tem upset; if you come out she won't be, and she'll buy you a yukata that can fit you."
She sounded…almost gentle. As if she was, the last person that anybody would expect to hurt a fly, although she had killed plenty of people over the course of her career as a kunoichi. It was as if she was the kid's mother, although he knew who that was. Much to his amazement, the door clicked open, revealing a ruby-eyed three-year-old girl in nothing but her bright blue underwear, having escaped while the woman was trying to put the dress on her. Quickly, Temari put the frock on her and hoisted her up in her arms, passing her to Shikamaru.
"Really?" the man and his goddaughter stared in astonishment at the same time. Temari nodded.
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"Why didn't you try that earlier?"
Shikamaru sipped his mug of coffee while Temari stood at the sink washing the dishes. Kimiko was watching television in the living room, and he hoped she would not watch it too often. Television was a bad influence for young children, he heard. She shrugged, setting a dish away.
"I thought she would be more comfortable speaking to you first. From the moment she first stepped in here I could tell she didn't like me that much."
"She does," he smiled behind his mug. She shot him a quizzical look.
"She told me once while you were having a shower that she found you weird and scary, but also admitted that she adored you."
"Really?"
His hair was down, she noticed. He had rushed out of the bathroom without tying it, and now he had unfortunately forgotten to tie it up. Then again, she didn't mind. The usual pineapple had been replaced by locks of dark hair that hung in a mane a bout an inch or two longer than her hair. A fringe almost as long as the rest of his hair hung randomly spread all over his face, with the occasional lazy attempt to blow a strand out of his eyes.
"You aren't going to tie it up?" she set the last dish away and shed her lime rubber gloves, to be met by her companion shaking his head and taking another sip out of his mug, strands getting into his mouth to be spat out in annoyance. Temari retrieved a hairgrip from her pocket, held it in her mouth as she brushed the fringe away from his surprised face and slipped it on him, a little above his left ear.
"Done," she grinned. He absent-mindedly fingered the accessory before concluding mentally that he did not like it. Yanking it off with his free hand, he tossed it back to his roommate.
"You forgot men don't usually use hair accessories that don't include hair gel, styling wax and a comb or hairtie?"
"I'm only trying to help, since you won't stop eating your own hair. Does it taste like chocolate or something?"
"It's only part of an experiment. When you went out with your hair down the other day I figured I would see how it would be like if I tried that. Curiosity."
She gave an uninterested 'humph' and poured herself some coffee. Tea would not be enough to keep her awake today, not with all the drama last night and that morning, courtesy of Kimiko. Now that she had kept the child pacified with the promise of a pretty yukata to call her own, she wondered if she was going to gain anything positive out of the brief child-rearing experience, other than getting a taste of parenthood and the prospect of ruined sleep. There had to be some other benefit to babysitting, right?
"I just remembered. You said you owed me gumdrops since Kimiko ate all of mine," she stated flatly, teal eyes narrowing and darkening as a cloud blocked the sunlight streaming through the blinds.
Did I say that?
Yes, you did, and a man always keeps his promises.
His conscience, the annoying bugger. Eidetic memory helped the thing, reminding him ever so gently now and then of anything he thought he had forgotten, apart from the usual use of moral deliberation. It occasionally poked fun at him too, as if it were another mind altogether. Being a genius had its quirks.
"Lemon," she set her mug of coffee on the counter and made her way to the refrigerator with a sway of her hips.
"I'll take Kimiko to get her yukata after her show is over, and when I'm back, I expect a bag in here," a slender calloused finger pointed to an empty spot on a shelf next to a half-finished small carton of orange juice. She then grabbed the juice and emptied it of its contents.
"Get more orange juice too. As for where to get the gumdrops, there's a sweet shop a couple of blocks away from the Yamanaka flower shop. You know that place, right? I like the candy from there."
The little ruby-eyed girl skipped over and tugged on Temari's sleeve, ready to leave. She did not want her godfather to follow, as she wanted the design to be a surprise.
Clever little girl. Nakimushi did a fine job raising her, even if she is a bit cheeky.
"Remember, there'll be hell to pay if I don't see gumdrops in the fridge," she warned, the door creaking closed to leave him with only his empty apartment for company. He inwardly sighed. He knew that sweet shop; he had been there on numerous occasions as a child, when he had saved enough of his pocket money after academy lessons. He did not have a lot of sugar cravings into his adult years, so he had not been there in a while.
With his hair experiment continuing, he tucked stray strands behind his ears and headed for the door, a lingering sense of uneasiness in the cool apartment air. This was going to be a long day.
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"Hey, Nara, it's been some time!" smiled a middle-aged man with graying hair at the counter. The shop was small, with shelves stacked high with as many as five levels holding jars containing a mélange of sweets that one could only begin to comprehend the sheer variety of. The walls were off-white to the point of being lemon yellow, demonstrating the age of the tiny shop, but the ladder he remembered the owner would use to reach the higher levels of shelves still worked fine.
"A medium bag of lemon gumdrops and a small one of dark chocolate mints, Mitsunagi-san," he requested, looking about the shop. A sense of nostalgia overcame him and he was tempted to sneak a string of liquorices, which he did occasionally as a not-so well-behaved child. Resisting the urge, he stuffed his hands down his pockets, toying with his wallet. He earned his own salary now, so stealing would be out of the question. The owner had three standard sizes to make it easier for his customers, and Shikamaru remembered tiptoeing to place his carefully saved pocket money on the counter before ordering a small bag of whatever he felt like having that day, before sharing with Naruto and Chouji.
Speak of the devil.
"Good morning, Mitsunagi-san!" announced Naruto, marching proudly into the shop while said shopkeeper packed Nara's order into a bag.
"The usual?" he smiled, handing Shikamaru his change. The hyperactive blonde nodded confidently as the man measured out a small bag of chocolate buttons from a jar at the counter.
"Put it on Shikamaru's tab, would you, oyabu?"
"Hey!"
He grumbled softly to himself and pulled out a note for the man.
"Just this once, Naruto," he warned. The whiskered young man nodded, but had his fingers crossed behind his back. He knew the cerulean-eyed one occasionally used chocolate as a bribe to get his students at the academy working harder, and it worked all the time. Mitsunagi made a remark on how Shikamaru's shaggy hair looked like a dog had shook himself dry after a bath, resulting in laughter from himself, Naruto and someone else in the shop, but not the person in question.
Yep. This was going to be a long day. Good thing he had the mints to snack on, because he would need all the comfort food he could get.
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A/N: Still no ideas for a SasuTem oneshot, but I'd like to thank montenaralove for reading and commenting on every story I've written so far, and Sand-Jounin-Temari for all the support and encouragement ^_^. If I have time (school starts next week, argh, why?!) I might dedicate a story to you guys!
Thankies for the lovely reviews, virtual fat-free cookies for eveyone who reviews!