With shikatema being canon, I've started a new drabble/oneshot series featuring them post epilogue. Find it through my profile: 4572 days later.

That being said, this particular installment of windy is post 699, but not post 700. This series will still be updated with any canonverse shikatema that doesn't concern their lives after that. - remaining spoiler free for those who don't read the manga.

Thanks and as always, enjoy!

(the next installment will be angst, just fyi.)

[I would like to see a little bit of a look into what you think will become of them in Naruto The Last, what with all the new designs being released]

She waited for him at the usual place: a bench a few minutes' walk away from the burial grounds, a large tree providing the perfect shade against the Midsummer Day. She said nothing as he collapsed into the chair beside her, his hand flicking a lighter idly as he stretched once. "Rough day," she said more than asked, as he did nothing but make sounds of contentment as he splayed his arms.

With one gratifying sigh, he dropped them and began to fish in his pocket. "Something like that. The kids are crazy, that's for sure."

She wrinkled her nose as he pulled a cigarette; he only stared back at her, almost challengingly, as one finger slipped against the trigger. After a few moments of silent conversation, she sighed and pried the lighter from his clutches. "Thanks," he murmured as she wordlessly flicked the silver, a small yet strong flame igniting almost instantaneously. She held it up; he leaned in with the cigarette perched between his lips. Their proximity was so close that she could almost taste his skin, but as soon as the acrid smoke began to float to her nose, she turned away pointedly as he chuckled lowly, plucking the cigarette from his lips and blowing languid puffs of smoke.

She frowned. "I still don't like it when you smoke."

He didn't bring up the argument that it only happened a few times a year – on particularly stressful days and the anniversary of his sensei's death. It also so happened that she made a point to visit when that day fell, and for the past five she'd came over.

After the first of five, she'd begun to sleep over.

After the third of five, she'd taken a space in his bed.

She wondered if they'd ever progress to the point where he'd stop insisting on taking the couch, instead.

He said nothing as he blew out another puff of smoke; she kept a respectful silence as he mulled, as she knew he often did, on these days. She didn't have to be in his mind to know what he was thinking, to live through the reminiscing that was painfully carved on his face as he lost himself to his memories.

And before long, he dropped the cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out under his boot, before letting another sigh flow from his lips. That was his cue – that he had left the world of memories and was reconnected; that he was no longer dwelling on his fifteen, sixteen year old self who'd sought revenge for his sensei.

He was no longer the avenger, but a peaceful man, a jonin leader, who stopped coming to visit her so she had to make the trip out instead.

"Ready?" It wasn't a question nor an invitation, for she had already leapt on her heels as soon as he'd finished his smoke. He only looked up at her, his eyes lazy and almost pleading, before he sighed and stood up, hands in his pockets.

She tossed him a mint.

With the smallest of friendly glares, he popped it in his mouth.

His students didn't bat an eye as she came in on their training, leaning against a tree a safe distance away from their training regimen. Not that Shikamaru did much to warrant that—though he was diligent, and certainly great at shaping his genin, she knew that it was only on very specific days did they do more than merely mastering their chakra control before going further. When she was in town, she'd spice things up, so to speak, and the first time she'd merely opened her fan in front of them, did the genin swoon and crowd her. Of course Shikamaru would be tasked with a female-heavy team, and that only meant they looked up to her even more than any other ninja rookie.

After that fiasco of a training session, the next time she had visited, they didn't approach her. Instead they had watched as she watched.

This time, one of the girls clamoured up to her when Shikamaru demanded a rest.

"Why do you come to Konoha, even though you're from Suna?"

The answer hung on her mind even after Shikamaru had caught her, giving the girl an affectionate bop on the head before he commanded her to join the rest of her team for a water break. "The girls giving you a hard time?"

She laughed. "No, just asked me a question."

"And?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she teased, though her mind reeled as he laughed and leaned against the tree, one palm out for support. She took the opportunity to slide down a crouching position. She suddenly felt fingers threading through her hair, pulling through in languid strokes before they got caught in a knot. Before she could manage a protest, he yanked his fingers, the tangle coming away forcefully as she yelped his name. "You asshole, stop laughing –"

She could vaguely see, from the corner of her eye, his female students giggling amongst themselves, Kurenai's kid only staring with a mild interest, as the shadow nin snorted and avoided her flailing fists.

After the day had wrapped up he had shooed off his genin team, instead ducking around the central parts of Konoha and retreating to his clan area. They headed straight to his house – a solitary one, within the Nara clan, but he no longer lived with his mother. He had originally tried to express some regret over the move, after all, he had to thank his Mother for the upbringing, but she suspected it more had to do with the free food and laundry. There were other perks to it, he called it his own space, she knew so otherwise.

His house was already a second home to her, her belongings scattered about and had been accumulating over the visits she'd made since he had moved. He closed the door behind him and he ducked into the bathroom to take a shower; she slipped off the extra vests and jackets and slipped into an obi that she had last left behind. It was neatly folded, to her surprise, the smell of detergent faint on her clothes.

She sat herself in one of the couches by his living room, listening as the water turned off with a squeak. He came from the shower several minutes later, a loose shirt already pulled over his head and wearing sleeping shorts. Her eyebrow raised as he approached.

"You know, you could always just share the bed," she said as she passed him, allowing one stray finger to linger at his shoulder, the palm of her hand hesitating to rest against the flesh. He only gave her a pointed look, to which she sighed and shrugged. "I wouldn't be offended."

"I know," he said lowly, his voice only lightly laced with need, but he shrugged his shoulder once, and her fingers fell limply to her side as he stepped around her with a quiet goodnight.

She made her way to his bedroom, alone. There was something weird about the notion, being enveloped in a room that just screamed him, from the minimalist décor to the smell of his blankets, sheets, and pillow as she settled herself in his bed.

And just like the nights she spent at his place, she tossed and turned, frustrated that, in spite of being so close to him, what she actually craved – his stare, his smile, his presence – was the only thing she lacked.

A quiet cough caught her attention.

"On second thought... do you mind?"

She didn't have to sit up to know who it was.

She took one calming breath, trying to slow the stuttering flutter that had begun to hammer in her heart.

"Not at all."

She rolled to the side as the covers lifted, the warmth of his body already filling the cold space of the bed as he slid into the spot beside her. And as soon as he was settled she wondered how she'd managed those nights on her own, in a bed too big for just her.

She allowed one hand to trace the contour of his back, to revel in the feeling of the single layer of fabric that lay between her skin and his. She wanted nothing more but to plant kisses along his neck, down his body, and on his lips, but that time could wait. They had already progressed so far.

They had all eternity to play out the rest.