[So, supposedly the movie Naruto The Last, will have a scene about this winter festival, in which Hinata will give Naruto a red scarf. How about a prompt about that said winter festival, with shikatema?]
He only gave her a disinterested stare.
Her brow twitched, and she shook the paper for emphasis.
Still, no change in reaction.
She held the poster for a moment longer, contemplating whether rolling it up and promptly smacking him with it would allow him to register her unspoken invitation.
Apparently, Temari might've gotten more of a reaction out of that – seeing as his eyes slowly, painstakingly, dragged from the poster to her face. "Well, it's the poster for the Winter Fesitval," Shikamaru deadpanned.
Temari rolled her eyes. "Yes. It's the Winter Festival – and I happen to actually be in Konoha this year, through this festival."
Her escort only rolled his shoulders back; the words might as well have been blunt shuriken bouncing off that thick skull of his.
Irritation played at her lips. "So, as my escort-"
"-I'm taking you," he finished for her, the words not a question. However, his tone was extremely unimpressed, and even that much had her reeling.
He didn't have to make it sound like such a chore.
For some reason, misgivings flew on her tongue; if he was gonna grumble about it all night, she might as well take someone who'd actually look forward to it. If he was gonna be an ass about it, what was the point of having some fun? She contemplated threatening the possibility of asking someone else, someone who wasn't taking her out of obligation – but what if that elicited no reaction –
"I'll pick you up at six, then."
It, too, wasn't a question.
Temari took a deep inhale, the exhale out louder than she expected. And with that, she was calm.
"Sounds good."
She swore she saw his lips quirk upwards, but as soon as that possibility crossed her mind, his face was back to blank.
She glanced down at the poster at her hands.
If anything, that gave her something to look forward to, through the bitter and biting Konoha winter.
He was precisely three minutes and twenty two seconds late.
Not that she had her eyes on the mounted clock, or anything.
But when he knocked, Temari hesitated, contemplating whether she should even bother with the door. After another second's fight with herself, she sighed and swung it open.
Her eyebrow arched.
It's not as if this is the first time she's seen Shikamaru in winter gear, but it was the first time she'd seen him looking quite so… domestic. With a green (that bit was unsurprising) fluffy jacket, with a wooly looking hood, and a black scarf wrapped securely around his neck, she suddenly felt a little under dressed.
Judging by the way he glanced over her, he probably was thinking the same thing.
Despite herself, she felt her cheeks flush. No, she thought stubbornly – she was going to be perfectly fine.
So she stepped over her threshold to meet him, closing the door behind her before he could protest. She had her own coat on – just one of black wool, which never failed her before. She also threw on a scarf for good measure, but that was as far as her winter attire extended. She could still tell he was regarding her with what she hoped wasn't concern, thus she stubbornly met his gaze with her own. "Let's go shall we?"
His dark eyes almost seemed taken aback, but then they relaxed back into the usual borderline apathetic gaze. He visibly slunk back into a slouch, his hands sliding easily into his pockets.
And without saying much at all, he took half a step ahead – just enough to lead her, and the gesture was one she'd learned to accept without question. Besides, it's not like she had any idea where the hell they were going; for all the parading and "being guided" through the streets of Konoha, she only truly had memorized her route back to the Jonin building.
The thought lingered in her mind even as he opened the door for her; she shot him a side glance and ducked outside.
Her first thought was that it wasn't as cold as she expected.
And while she ended up voicing that thought, Temari swore she could hear a faint chuckle behind her. "What," she snapped, but the shadow nin's face had already slid back into apathy.
Damn, he was getting good at that.
And he did that thing again, taking a half step ahead of her, and Temari couldn't help but to marvel at the white dusting on the ground. It's not the first time she's seen snow – she'd never quite stayed in Konoha until winter, but that didn't mean she hasn't seen the weather miracle hit the ground before – but to see it still gently falling, touching parts of her too-hot skin, was something more out of a fairytale to her.
Not that she was enthralled by fairytales.
And as they walked, barely maintaining a conversation aside from the obligatory whimsical wonders of winter, she noticed that the stream of festival-ongoers only grew. Her sudden emotion – whether it was excitement or growing reproach, she wasn't sure – only grew tenfold as he suddenly picked up his pace.
The streets were packed.
"Welcome to the festival," Shikamaru said, rather unimpressedly, and Temari suddenly could understand why.
Children ran up and down, positively screaming, as their parents followed after them, eyes wide with panic. Booths and stores were all open, flashing signs advertising different foods and attractions lining the streets. Festive, colourful lights hung off the vein-like electrical wires, casting rainbow glows beneath them.
"So yeah, it's just a big clusterfuck of people and-"
Temari punched him in the arm. "Shut up, Nara, this is awesome."
The man visibly froze, before his one hand reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. Through his scarf. Again.
She almost didn't manage to disguise the laugh that had bubbled in her throat.
"You hungry?" He asked, his tone strangely hesitant. There was something charming within that, as if he were actually concerned for her wellbeing, and not donning a mask of impassiveness.
She shrugged. "Sure, I could go for some food."
It took him less than a few seconds to regain his composure, and with a strange confidence, as if he'd done this before, he stepped into the crowd. Temari followed right after.
There were people everywhere. It wasn't as if Temari was claustrophobic, she just never knew that this many people could exist at once. It was larger than any kind of event Suna put on – and not as in the percentage of population attending. It was simply that Konoha had a sheer amount of people, a fact she'd always known but never factored in.
It was weird not to recognize him by his jonin jacket, instead the unfamiliar khaki green of his coat, coupled with his inky black ponytail, her only beacon.
And so she kept her eyes trained on that, swerving occasionally to avoid other fast-walking couples, and once even having to full stop to avoid some kid from blasting into – and through – her skirt.
He was already hanging around the stall by the time she'd caught up to him, his hand digging into his pocket. She watched curiously as he tossed cash across the wooden table, grabbing two piping bags in exchange.
Temari took one gratefully, the warmth of whatever it was nice against her uncalculatedly cold fingers.
And then, as she saw inside, she made a face.
"It looks like a fish."
"That's because it is," Shikamaru said patiently, pushing down the corners of his own bag and taking a bite.
Temari stared at her own for a moment, before she mirrored his actions.
It wasn't what she was expecting – sweet, and definitely full of umami, as she bit off a piece of the fish's head and swallowed. Not bad. She took a halfstep forward before she felt fingers pulling her collar – and her – back.
"You have to eat here," Shikamaru explained after swallowing a mouthful of his own food.
Temari frowned. That's stupid. "Why?"
"It's rude not to eat where you bought your food – and it brings more business in, if people are seen enjoying what you have to offer," he explained dully, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Temari's lip curled; for all purposes and all the years she's been the Konoha ambassador, they still had stupid laws and conventions that made no sense to her.
But she complied anyways, taking another bite of the pastry – whatever it was.
And after she'd finished, she mechanically handed him the wrapper, to which he threw out.
That was nice of him.
And without warning, he plunged back into the crowd – and Temari barely managed to follow him in. As he wove rather comfortably around, it was getting increasingly harder and harder to keep up. There were just too many people. Kids running, screaming, loud jovial conversations ringing in her ears. And all the while, he walked calmly ahead, his hands loosely at his sides, his stance relaxed – which was the opposite of what she was feeling, that's for sure.
Without thinking, she grabbed his hand.
It's because there's too many people, she prepared on her tongue, ready to retaliate when he'd undoubtedly laugh – smirk, whatever, but to her surprise, he said nothing.
His fingers closed around hers.
"Your hand is cold."
"Shut up," she shot back reflexively, though not exactly the response she'd prepared. He said nothing, as if he'd gotten it into his head that nothing particular had transpired.
Part of her was irrationally angry.
But the other part was giddy, most definitely from the attending-festival high she had coursing through her veins.
And as they walked, Temari couldn't help but to marvel at how foreign Shikamaru seemed. The colour and padding of his coat, the way he could tuck his mouth and nose into his scarf, the size of his hand – that was bigger than she expected. All of it seemed oddly mundane, considering how he was often quite the opposite in her eyes – but she wasn't complaining. In fact, there was something very nice about all of this.
They went about, occasionally stopping booth to booth for Temari to browse – not that she particularly found anything interesting, to say the least. Sure, there was the odd trinket here and there, but she wasn't about to fall for any tourist traps. The festival games she did rather enjoy, but Shikamaru had to, for all purposes, drag her away even when she'd known the game was rigged. ("That's the point," he'd said, "this is a festival, not a fair playing field.") There were also a couple of booths she suspected Shikamaru visited out of obligation, her first clue being the Yamanaka Flowers, the second seeing a certain blonde manning it.
He'd let go of her hand, then, and had gone over to speak to her lowly.
She didn't care much, though – Ino was Ino.
When he came back, he'd only looked a little less impassive, and to her surprise, he was the first to take her hand.
She hadn't complained about that, though.
After she'd claimed a rather large-looking stuffed bear from a somewhat hassled-looking clerk, Shikamaru hesitated. Her hand already outstretched, she forced herself to withdraw it back to her side.
He shrugged off his jacket.
"You're cold," he stated, as if he needed a reason to explain his sudden undressing in front of her.
She stared.
"I'm fine."
"No, you're cold," he responded stiffly, and to her reproach, he shoved his coat on top of the bear she held in her arms. "I can feel your heat through your hands, and I'm not returning you to Suna if you're sick."
Temari rolled her eyes, a sarcastic reply already on her tongue. Before they could come out, he'd plucked the bear from her arms. And then he gave her a hard look.
She grumbled and slid her arms into his coat.
It wasn't so bad – there was lingering warmth where the garment had hugged him, and it was warm.
(It smelled good, too.)
She barely managed to catch the bear he shoved back into her arms.
She, also, decided that fighting the blush that'd spread on her cheeks was simply not worth it.
"You realize you're not getting this back until Christmas, right?" She said into the bear's head.
He chuckled and squeezed her hand once, their fingers tangling effortlessly into each other.
"You're staying until then?"
"I guess so."
He grinned. "How about New Years?"
She crushed his hand into her grip. "Don't push your luck."