Continuation of the previous chapter.
[ShikaTema prompt- "Are we friends or something more?"]
He had to stop bargaining like this.
He knew, deep deep down, he was totally a coward. What should've been hidden behind a blur of alcohol was all too vivid in his brain. Though the deal he made himself was influenced by the booze, the love, the sex, the passion – all of that was real. He could remember everything: from the curve of her back, to her heavy moans in his ear, to the helpless words that's slipped through her lips between gasps and pants of pleasure.
And he was sure he wouldn't see her for another week, at least, before they fell back into bed like this.
But there she was, eyes closed, her normally serious (and sultry) face somehow soothed into one of tranquility. When she wasn't burning with passion and staring back at him in a vivid teal, she actually seemed calm and quiet. But he knew better – he always knew better, for she was anything but quiet.
Both in personality, and in bed.
So there she dozed, defenseless, his blankets strewn across lithe shoulders but her sturdy frame, her blonde hair a fuzzy nest around her head. He guessed the straightening effect had long since worn out, her hair akin to straw than the smooth silkiness it had been last night. Though if he had his preference, he kind of preferred this: it was truer to her personality; not the misleading innocence her hair otherwise would've lead him to believe.
It was during those opportune moments, of course, when she decided to wake up.
And the first thing she did was swear.
"Fuck, I didn't mean to – ahh." She sat up abruptly, a yawn still teasing the corner of her lips as she stretched before falling limp. She shot him a glance, then to her clothes on the floor, then back to him. He waited patiently as the gears turned in her brain before she sighed. "Sorry – I should've, shit."
He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips as she blinked stupidly. "Try to sneak out early?"
"Hah," she muttered in response. She shrugged the blankets up higher (pity, they were beginning to slip and he wouldn't have minded seeing those again) and buried her nose into them. "I forgot to set my stupid alarm." She glanced at her clothes despairingly.
He eyed the discarded bra and panties that lay strewn on the floor, his shirt along those pieces of clothing and her shorts, truthfully, were nowhere to be found. He didn't miss the look of longing in her eyes. He truly was a little disappointed – when he first noticed she was still in his bed, he realized with a jolt what he'd promised himself he'd do. And then instantly regretted the stupid bargain he made with himself.
But then she was here – for the first time, in the daylight, when he could admire her. He could see the sun against her tanned skin, the natural colour of her lips and the way her cheeks were still somewhat rosy despite their normal hue. He could see the hint of muscle along her arms, the definition of her collarbones, the colour of teal in the sunlight that seemed to sparkle like the facet of diamonds.
He truly, irrevocably, was in love with her.
And he was fuckin' gonna have to tell her.
Unless she ran out of him first.
Truthfully, that was still a possibility in his head.
But then she shot him a sideways glance and he shrugged. "Fuck it," she moaned, and he couldn't help the thud in his chest as she threw herself back onto his bed, bed sheets and all.
He slid into place next to her.
His fingers struggled against his will, trying to itch their way to her lithe body, but he stopped himself short before he could. She merely kept her face under his tan sheets, though he could almost sense the frustration coming from her in waves. "You make it sound like you don't enjoy my company," he said quietly. He watched for her reaction – for any minor shift in the blanket that obscured his vision – but she only snorted from underneath the blankets.
"I don't enjoy not getting a paycheck."
"You work in the morning?"
She threw the blankets off her face, her eyes wide and incredulous. "You don't?" He shrugged. She groaned as the blankets went back onto her face. "Look," she said, her voice once again obscured by the blankets, "it's not that I enjoy… running out on you. I have stuff to do."
He narrowed his eyes. "You could leave a note."
Silence.
He couldn't help the snort of contempt that escaped his mouth. "You can't be serious-"
"Shut up, okay, no one can think as far ahead as you –" but he had erupted into a fit of laughter, and even as the blankets flew off their bodies he still couldn't choke back his snorts. It was only when she had pinned him down with a look that could cut into his very skin did he choke on his last guffaw and instead try to meet her fiery gaze. "You suck, Nara."
He shrugged. She couldn't hide her grin much longer either.
And then her lips were on his.
Unexpected round twos weren't anything he could say he had experience with. But he wasn't complaining.
She had collapsed beside him, head resting on his arm and her tanned complexion even redder than usual. He had never really realized just how worked up she got when they fucked; actual sunlight finally showed him just what effect he had on her. And that was flushed skin, lidded eyes, and a lot of sweat. He guessed that was a good thing.
She wasn't exactly asleep, nor was she exactly cuddly, but he liked the weight on his arm. Something about it felt right.
And their conversation was casual, pillow talk really, for whatever they had to say was said last night and now they were both at a loss as to what to do.
He took a deep breath.
Well, it was now or never.
He tested her name on his mouth – not because it was the first time he'd said it, but it was the first time he allowed the affection he felt for her caress her name. She turned to him receptively, her teal eyes all the more enrapturing now that he knew what he wanted to say.
His heart thudded in his chest.
"Are we friends?" Her lips, at first neutral, even curved into the slightest of smiles, slipped into a frown. He pressed on, "or are we something more?"
Temari shifted a little on his arm, before she turned outright and only treated his eyes to a view of the back of her head. A twinge of disappointment climbed up his stomach before she spoke. Her voice was quiet, a different kind of passion than one lidded with alcohol or sex, but instead rather serious, muted. "Well, I don't sleep around, or anything. If that's what you're saying." He could feel her stiffen, her arms mechanically drawing the covers back over her shoulders. He almost missed her next words, of which she mumbled directly into her blankets. "I don't have sex with people I dislike."
They laid like that for a few more moments, himself listening to the thudding of his heart as elation begun to sink in, the girl on his arm growing more and more uncharacteristically still.
He turned to her and pressed his face into her hair. It smelled faintly of flowers – something he never quite noticed before, a particularly girly aura he never associated her with. She was still sultry, sexy, exotic, even, but over the nights they had spent together, he realized she truly was kind and humble, while not being sarcastic or witty.
In the morning they spent together, he discovered that she could also be meek, even embarrassed.
Temari smelled like flowers.
He grinned into her hair. "I love you," he whispered, the words still somehow foreign and not seeming quite his own, coming from his mouth. But they felt entirely right, as if they had been sitting on his tongue for a while now, his brain already somehow used to the thought and the shape of the words before they had spilled from his lips.
She didn't say anything, to his disappointment, but when his fingers rather shyly brushed away the locks of blonde hair, he could see a faint dusting of red that had managed to make its way to the tips of her ears.
Temari, when embarrassed, turned red.
He couldn't help but find her endearing, though he teased her and stroked her cheek. She retaliated hotly, batting his hand away and accusing him of pulling a fast one. He grinned though she bristled like an angered cat, his fingers tangled into hers in way that he doubted would come loose anytime soon.
What else he would learn about her?
He had several, newfound mornings to find out.