a/n: okay this one is odd. it is shikamaru-centric and with an OC. remember at the end of chapter 4? i said i wanted to use my otp from City Hunter in another scene? Well this is it. I highly recommend the show (the korean action one) and if you were to watch it, you would know exactly why Taro (or yoon-sung) is wearing the prosecutor's clothing. (bet you'd want to know if shikamaru is right or not?) anyway, yeah, watch it.

also, is no one going to mention my gross over-use of alexz johnson's new ep in my title choosing?

Give Me Fire

He had never liked Taro. There was something about him he found very annoying; in the way he walked, his back, his mannerisms, his overall mood in general. Perhaps there was a likeness to himself that he recognized. And that in itself was annoying.

And he very much disliked him for it. Not to mention, when they met, a year or so before, he had been investigating a woman Taro was sleeping with, and the man had explained that he was… well, sexually loose, and had long ago lost her number.

Nara had never taken to men like that. How arrogant and self-centered must one be to treat relationships so passively and carelessly?

He looked down on one night stands. Always had.

And so he looked down on Taro.

But that had been only plain dislike. Now, his distain for the man was much more of a certain hate.

He'd had to interact with the man before, but only sporadically, and only because he always happened to be somehow conveniently connected to Nara's investigations. There was something suspicious about him, and he couldn't quite put a finger on it. It was annoying, but nothing to be consistently in arm's over.

He'd never really hated him until last month, at the hotel. He'd been there to attend a birthday party with Temari. They'd gone together out of convenience and a tentative friendship. Then he'd been called away for work and had to leave her. When he went back to find her later on, there was Taro standing in only a robe, and in the doorway behind him, Temari.

She was angry at him, and so she hadn't bothered to explain anything-and jesus, she had no obligation too—and rationally he knew they weren't having sex, but nevertheless, he now loathed Taro.

Had for the past month.

But fuck, he wasn't some light-footed man. He didn't go chasing after Temari's new boyfriend. Or possible boyfriend. Or anything like that. It wasn't his place and she hadn't been his responsibility for a long time—she made these decisions on her own and he wasn't so hot-headed as to confront Taro.

And it was okay. His job kept him too busy during the day to think about it and there were only so many hours during the night that he was awake to concentrate. He was used to life since she left him. It was a wound, he'd allow, but not a burning one.

In short: he maintained his loathing for Taro, but he didn't jeopardize the investigation by biasing him unjustly—he kept his personal feelings out of it.

Until now, as they were both in the bathroom of the Kantei—Nara due to the investigation, Taro because he worked in the security office—standing beside one another. Nara had thought he'd known it earlier in the office, but now, seeing Taro up close, it was easily confirmed.

The air in the room was quiet, and the only sound was the running water as Nara washed his hands, though he found it fairly arguable that his heart was beating loud enough for anyone in a three-mile radius to hear.

Taro stood with his back to the prosecutor, in front of the paper towels. Nara had a feeling he was waiting to be confronted.

His blood was pumping and his head was hot. He turned off the water. In a low voice, he ground out, "that suit…" he took a heady breath, "that tie…." Nara could hear himself. He sounded angry—angrier than he'd ever heard himself sound, actually. He hadn't even expected such a dark tone to emit.

It wasn't like he needed confirmation. He knew the clothes fit snuggly to Taro's form—the man was a good inch taller and slightly bigger than himself—were his own. He knew it without needing to ask. He figured he'd left them back at his old house, along with a handful of meaningless belongings. But they weren't things one just bought at any store. He recognized them. He recognized the use and wear in them as his own.

But he'd asked and so Taro confirmed it anyway. "Ah." He smirked, tone carrying a light lilt. Shrugging his shoulders, he reached for the paper towels. "You're right. It's yours. I got them from a doctor who was…." he paused and wiped his hands dry, "looking after me," he finished smugly.

Nara's breath got hotter and his clothes suddenly felt very constricting. He narrowed his eyes and loosened his tie.

It wasn't a hint now. It wasn't rational thought to think she wasn't sleeping with him. He had more than enough evidence on the contrary. Men didn't just borrow clothes when they didn't need to. And he knew Taro, he'd investigated him over and over, and he wasn't the kind of man to seek help from others if he could help it.

He had fucked her. Like one of the dozens of women he took to nice hotels after a night at the club and treated to good wine and good food and probably great sex and then left in the morning and forgot about by noon and jesus christ, he could have had anyone else! Anyone.

"Are all your relationships with women this light?"

Taro turned around and threw away the towel. "I had a reason to borrow them, so I wore them." As though ending the conversation at that, Taro turned around and walked out of the bathroom.

Nara's pulse peaked, if possible, and he ran out after him, "what?"

"Luckily," Taro continued, walking down the hall. "I don't like wearing other's clothes, so I won't do it again."

He stopped and turned sharply to face Nara, smirk in place. "But isn't it funny how upset you are over something that is supposed to be over?"

Nara had no idea what he was doing anymore.

He had let his personal feelings go and he was so far out of the ballpark on right and wrong and protocol and the law and assault.

And without a moment's hesitation, he leapt forward and pinned Taro to the wall, forearm pressing precariously against his jugular.

Of course it was over. Of course it was. It wasn't a break and it wasn't a separation. It was divorce. Plain and simple. And he was over it. He was. This wasn't about the fact that he still had feelings for her. This was about Taro and, more specifically, Taro fucking his— ex-wife; fucking… Temari.

Nara leaned forward, breath wetting Taro's face. "Temari," he breathed, "Temari is a pitiful person. She needs to meet someone… better than you."

Taro didn't falter from the physical force nor the position, eyes challenging and completely lacking hesitation. "And what's so wrong with me?"

"She's too innocent to be toyed with by a person like you!" Nara snapped.

Bullshit. They both knew it.

Temari was smart and willed and clever and would never be taken in by some man with any scheme of manipulation. If they'd slept together, she'd be as willing as her partner. Nara knew that. He knew it. But she wasn't his wife. And she was free to take home whomever she wanted. But she was better. She was so much better. And she deserved better— than either of them.

Taro was pushing him. Nara knew that. He was baiting him and edging him on. And it suddenly struck Nara hard in the gut that he wasn't being protective or careful. He was jealous. Painfully and stupidly jealous.

The man was angry now, and he raised his voice. "Who said I was toying with her?" Nara saw red, and he pushed harder into Taro's throat, but his will was short lived as the words washed over him. When Taro lifted his hands to push Nara backwards, he moved, stumbling for a moment before regaining his balance.

"Aren't you scared that I might be sincere?" Taro rubbed his throat, face red. "Isn't that what this is! Aren't you scared that I might actually be sincere?"

There was a quick cut off, and Taro took a sharp breath.

He was right. He was very right.

Nara wasn't scared of him taking advantage. He was scared of Temari falling for someone else.

Taro had all the qualities. The brains, the looks, the charm, and it would be so easy for him to have her.

And she must hate Nara. She hated him for not putting her first. For not being understandable or available. For abandoning her and for not trying harder to chase after her.

And he was scared—terrified—that she might actually fall in love with Taro.

Because, in his own, very wrong way, he was still very much in love with her.

The hall was silent apart from their breath and pumping blood in their veins. Some might call it testosterone and some might call it ego but both of them knew it was neither. It was the prosecutor and his fucked up issues with the fact that he was still in love with his ex-wife.

"Prosecutor Nara," Taro said eventually, voice calm, "why don't you deal with settling your feelings." And with that, he straightened his stance and fixed his clothes. "You know where to find me."

Then he turned and walked down the hall. Nara remained, gaze fixed on a blank spot on the wall.

many thanks to appy-appy for reading this beforehand (and the other version where we hear taro's pov) and for helping me through the best way to tell it.

thanks for all the reviews from last time.

and give me requests and reviews now! I command!

(but seriously they really are the greatest, so in all humble sincerity, please send them my way.)