Chapter Three

Whatever Kankurou did and said: he was an excellent cook.

Leaning back on her hands, Temari sighed. "That's what I missed in Konoha. They have all kinds of food – and it's good, too. But it's... Too different."

"If you can't adjust to foreign eating habits," her elder brother taunted, "You shouldn't be a diplomat, eh, Gaara?"

"If you can't control your tongue," Temari started and broke off in mid-sentence, remembering the same argument with a different partner. Hadn't it been so painful she would have been surprised that something as insubstantial as a memory could hurt so much. "Whatever, Kankurou."

She glanced up just in time to see her brothers exchange a worried look and bit her tongue in anger at herself.

"What is it?" She demanded, suddenly desperate to get over with it. She knew as well as they did that this was something she eventually would have to tell them, private life or not. They were siblings. Theoretically, it was her life and they had no say in it. But at the same time they were siblings. Temari would have plumbed her brothers for every detail had they broken up with someone they had been with for five years and she expected no less of them, even if it was bound to be hard. "Get over with it, and quickly, so we can do some work."

Gaara leaned back and watched her from the corner of his washed-out, green eyes. Since Shukaku had left him the signs of his insomnia had mostly fled from his face: he looked like a normal shinobi in his usual nondescript uniform. Kankurou was looking at her openly, his face a mask of poorly hidden concern. None of them spoke.

"Fine," Temari said, taking a deep breath. "I broke up with him. We only saw each other for a few weeks now and then and it was getting too hard to bear. He knew I'd never leave Suna to go live in Hidden Leaf and he wouldn't leave Leaf. We had no future, so I ended the entire thing."

Silence, even from Kankurou.

"Just like that?" Gaara asked finally, his voice level.

"Yes." Somehow, she didn't trust her voice.

"After five years?"

"So what?"

"That bastard didn't cheat on you, did he?" Kankurou asked, his eyes shrinking to slits. "Because if he did and you're just covering up for him…"

"If he had cheated on me, believe me, I wouldn't cover for him," Temari hissed. "He didn't do anything."

"Maybe that was the problem." Gaara's intuition, pointed and sharp like a kunai, hit thebull's eye. "Was there something he should have done but failed to do?"

"Like what?" Temari stared down her brothers, her eyes only slits now as well.

"I don't know," Gaara answered; his calm demeanor a stark contrast to his angry elder siblings. "Do you?"

There were a myriad of things Shikamaru could have done to make her feel better, Temari thought. Only there had been a difference between what he could have done and what she wanted him to do. Loving someone, she had realized, meant taking him with all his faults. And asking Shikamaru to do something she herself wouldn't do – wouldn't want him to do, because that meant he wouldn't be the man she had fallen in love with – was impossible.

"Listen," Temari said, fighting to accept their desert-wide protective streaks as something positive. "We had a great time together but everything ends. I couldn't stay with Shikamaru any longer, so I broke up with him. And whatever people tell you: being the one to initiate a breakup isn't easier than being the one who's broken up with. In fact, it is fucking shitty both ways. But I'll get over it. So, while I appreciate your concern I'd find it far easier to skip over the topic now and get down to work instead."

"But," Kankurou objected. "If you still love him you can't just let go of him. What about that weird mind-reader Anbu woman? Has she done anything-"

"Kankurou." Gaara's quiet voice cut through Kankurou's agitation like a hot knife through butter. "Temari doesn't want to talk about it."

Opening his mouth to object Kankurou turned to Temari and saw her expression. He closed his mouth with an audible snap, his lips forming a tight line. "Fine," he said and stood to clear away the dishes. "For now, I'll let it be."

Temari loved her brothers when they were like that. So caring, so worried for her, so ready to travel to Konoha and beat up her ex-boyfriend for something she had done to them, not he. Ignoring the tiny voice in her head that whispered that there were always two at fault, not one, and, in this case, probably even three, she rummaged through her bag and brought out her paperwork.

Now that was just stupid. Two were a couple, and three... Well.

Gaara brushed aside a few crumbs and Kankurou placed three glasses and a bottle onto the polished hardwood table and for the rest of the evening she didn't think of Shikamaru anymore.

…

The moment she saw him standing in the gates of Hidden Leaf - hands in his pocket, eyes half-closed - she realized she had been thinking about him since the moment she had been told she was being sent to Leaf once again. He seemed completely at ease, leaning against the thick gate posts. The moment Temari came into view he pushed himself forward and took three steps, then stood still and waited for her to reach the gate.

Her second time as ambassador.

Temari wasn't prone to blushing and her sun-tanned skin would have hidden most of the reaction, anyway. But she couldn't stop her blood from rushing faster when she finally stopped in front of him. Taking down her fan, letting it thump to the ground and putting her folded hands on its top, she regarded him carefully.

"Nara."

He nodded in greeting, his face expressionless. "Ambassador."

A stab of disappointment shot through her, hot and acidic, and she wrestled it down violently. "The Kazekage sends his regards."

A nod. "I'll take you to see the Godaime Hokage."

They didn't talk more until they reached the Hokage's office. Nothing seemed to have changed in the five months of Temari's absence: the large, honey-colored desk filled the room and drew everyone's focus on the blonde woman in her green coat who was sitting behind it. Naruto was hovering close at hand. He seemed somewhat calmer than the raucous boy he had been nowadays, tempered by war and loss. And by people. Gaara had a similar look in his eyes, Temari thought and then concentrated on her task. Approximately forty-five minutes later, the Fire Shadow sighed. "You must be tired from your travels. I apologize for keeping you this long. You will be accommodated in the same place you stayed before – I trust you will find it again, and find it to your liking. We will continue this conversation tomorrow. How does nine thirty sound to you?"

"Thank you, Esteemed Hokage. I will be here tomorrow at the indicated time."

"Good." The Hokage's eyes slid to Shikamaru. "Nara-"

"I will accompany the Ambassador to her quarters," Shikamaru said. Temari's heart leaped and she struggled to keep her face straight.

Senju Tsunade eyed her own diplomat with an impassive face. "Very well. Be here tomorrow at the same time."

Shikamaru nodded and took Temari's bag.

February in Hidden Leaf was cold and icy, a stark contrast to the dry, unmoving heat that dominated Suna's winter. The freezing wind cut directly through her cloak.

"Here." Shikamaru led her down the road at a brisk pace. It was the same B&B again but with a man guarding the reception this time: younger, but with the face of the elder woman Temari had already met. He eyed her, obviously interested, but didn't say anything except for the usual courtesies. Shikamaru bid her good night curtly, but not before telling her she would join him for breakfast the next day. Temari laughed.

"How can I refuse when you put it like that?"

He stared back at her, his face still unreadable. "Good."

Only later she realized he had positioned himself between the icy wind and herself the entire way to her quarters.

…

And all the games he could play, she knew, too.

"I want to have fun," she told him when he asked her what she would like to do the next night. Shikamaru shrugged and took her to a boxing tournament. She was just about to tell him he hadn't understood anything – and then she watched a man in the audience get up and make his way towards the ring. Stripping himself of his shirt – an action that elicited cheers and whistles – he was given a pair of gloves and a towel and took up position in the one corner.

"Hey," Temari said, quickly putting together the pieces. "Is the audience allowed to participate?"

Shikamaru nodded.

"Anyone?"

A nod.

"No matter the weight and size?"

"Well, if you want to participate you'd have to know which opponent you have a chance against and which not…"

"Take this." She thrust her bag and her newly-acquired winter cloak into his arms, scooped up her hair into one single ponytail and made her way down the stairs towards the ring.

In one break between her fights – she fought three men and beat two of them, glad it was a boxing tournament which forbade direct strikes to the head – she looked up into the audience and caught Shikamaru's eyes. He held her gaze: there was something like a smile on his lips. Frowning, she looked back. He nodded at her. And Temari felt a smile break out on her face, a smile she never had smiled before.

Though it was a nice hotel, Temari's bed was rather old. It didn't matter much on normal nights but when engaged in activities that required as much movement as sex did, the springs did bite into her back quite annoyingly. She repaid Shikamaru for the inconvenience by switching places with him somewhere in between. He was warm and muscular, his body against hers electric, and his mouth on hers – on her entire body – made her lose herself in a way she never had before. Back in Suna she had wondered how she could have let herself go like this – she should know better, being at least four years older than him – but it did not matter, and she did not care. First impressions only went so far, she noted for further reference. Warm hands slid down her sides, down to her tights and up again and Temari fought for breath, her own heartbeat loud in her ears. At one point Shikamaru was inside her – an exhilarating, incredible sensation – his hands on her hips, his breath ragged at her right ear. Temari stopped and held the tension, seconds, minutes, just looking at him, and Shikamaru looked right back. His lips parted – he whispered her name – and moved his hips. Heat exploded inside her so brightly she saw stars.

The next morning she watched him dress, still naked on the bed that did look a bit worse for the wear. "You are so much more than everyone suspects," she told him.

Shikamaru froze; his back to her. "How?"

The words were there, clear in her mind. She just wasn't sure she should say them. But she could still feel his hands on her skin, rough and warm, could see the way his lips shaped her name. He turned around and there was hesitation on his face, so untypical, and something like fear.

"You are not bland."

The way he kissed her told her she had found the right words.