Takes place after the filler chuunin exams.

And with a rush of static, the three monitors went blank.

Shikamaru stretched, rolling the chair back onto its hindlegs, a satisfied groan bursting through his lips. He knew his mother disliked it - said it gave away too much of his character, childish for a chunin. Granted, becoming a chunin at twelve was still a fantastic feat: and he argued that, back then, he still was a chunin regardless of his age. So he'd stretch if he wanted to.

Two years later and that much hasn't changed. Besides, a good third of the participants had passed, so he was done his part on his books. No more chunin, no more proctor, he was back to being Shikamaru Nara, fourteen years old, and tired.

He saw an eyebrow beside him raise, a tinge of mirth on her face. In the back of his mind, maybe he'd question how easy it was to be that - Shikamaru, fourteen years old. Around Temari, seventeen, who upon first meeting wanted nothing to bash his face in. Her expression a mixture of impatience, bemusement, andunamusement, he was pretty sure he only continued to groan for her displeasure.

And then he dropped his arms.

"Are you sure you should be passing that many?" The question wasn't testy, or any form of weighty at all; still a change he was getting used to. It was probably due the environment, due to the relative silence they had plunged themselves into for the past thirty minutes. There was a weightlessness to her question that wasn't present in their normal banters, instead a professionalism that kept her tone neutral.

He shrugged. "My parameters were that they pass my question. And they did. I don't see why I should be making cuts."

And then his tone darkened - only because he was in part asking for it; at least that much, he was aware of. "I assume the stage in Suna is going to be much more brutal."

Unlike last time, amusement flashed across her features, and there restored was her usual demeanor. Gone away was the professionalism, and warmth flooded her teal eyes as she snorted. "Keep thinking that way, and we'llhavebecome more ruthless - it's better than being soft."

"Yeah yeah," he responded before stretching each of his legs. At least the test had gone smoothly - and it was just in time for lunch.

… Lunch.

The question lingered on his tongue, drying his mouth, making it suddenly hard to swallow. Here - here's the evidence that he was still fourteen and hell, somewhat still pubescent, because he can face enemy lines but something as ridiculous as asking her for lunch seemed wrong. But no, there was no romantic connotation behind it, just two proctors, coworkers, going for lunch.

God damn it.

But he managed to get the words out easily enough, and her response only proved his overanalyzing as she stood up, brushed off her yukata, and without blinking she merely grabbed her fan before hesitating at the door. And so he shoved his hands into his pockets, and tried not to feel some strange sense of relief over the fact that they were comrades. Having lunch. Like anyone else would.

And so they walked over to the nearest food stall, ducking underneath flaps that hung over the entrance. Shikamaru slid into a stool, with Temari falling into step beside him. This wasn't the first time they've eaten together - but it may have been the first time they went to go grab food alone. Usually they were accompanied by his sensei or his other teammates. This time though, Asuma was busy and he wasn't allowed to see his teammates until after the official chunin exam reviews. He was all too aware of the silence - of the tension that was present before, but tangible now. He wasn't sure when it all started; surely it was there before they'd been alone, but they always managed to fill the gaps with talking. And he couldn't deny the fact that Temari was the one who usually took the lead - after all she's the one who spurned him on, whether with her nicknames or by physically pulling him aside - like she had previously, right after they visited during the planning of this chunin exam.

But this time, the silence was loud. A tinge awkward. And he covered it by doing what he first thought of: staring ahead. Ignoring her green gaze that he could feel along his neck.

"So you really still think we're the cruelest village?"

Her voice cut into his thoughts, sliced the silence that had begun to thicken like a well-sharpened knife - poised, skillfully, as if she'd been used to doing so all her life. Shikamaru couldn't help it, a twinge of a smile pulled on his lips, and he finally turned to face her.

Her head rested on the backs of her hands, fingers steepled together to form a small platform for her chin. Her green eyes, normally sharp, focused - guarded, were relaxed, easy. The facade of professionalism gone, she seemed normal. As if they went out for food all the time.

His own voice came steady. "The first time I talked to you, you tried to bash my head in with a fan."

She grinned. "Okay, I may be the cruelest kunoichi, but I'm one person out of an entire village."

"You're more than enough to compensate for it."

And to his combination of amusement, horror, and unsurprise, she merely puffed her chest out, a bit of what sounded like a chuckle escaping her lips. Typical, only the cruelest would take pride in doing so.

Right on cue, their food bowls clacked as the chef set their meals down in front of them. It was more of a secondary thing - as their conversation came easy, and all prior whatever it was faded away quickly. And soon they were chattering away, long after their bowls were cleaned and their chopsticks placed neatly atop it, and chattering they did as they eventually were kicked out and they roamed the streets.

"- that's not what this is about, you know I would win-"

His grin grew wider.

"- No, see, there's your mistake. You need to account for your spacial relations, see if I've anticipated your technique and added a counter."

"I know you can think,what, two hundred steps ahead? That sounds more like five hundred."

"I'm pleased you remembered a remark I made two years ago, but yes, I have thought ah-"

"Would you two like to try our special couple's meal?" Interrupted a voice, somewhat obnoxiously. Shikamaru's head swiveled to the source of the sound, a waiter outside a restaurant, a smile plastered on his face.

"We already ate," he replied.

"And we're not a couple," Temari added, rather hotly. Fire was already present in her eyes from their earlier argument, but it only doubled at the insinuation.

Shikamaru blinked.

As the waiter did as well. "Oh, sorry, I thought-"

"Nope."

"Not dating," Temari deadpanned.

And as they walked away, her expression cooled - and her shoulders loosened, her face relaxed, and there was a strange half-bounce in her step that he noted.

Not dating.

Well, it was true, to say the least. And certainly that lunch wasn't a date.

Two comrades, coworkers, proctors, eating together.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and resumed where they left off, as easy as it usually was, as right as it usually was.

If only Shikamaru knew he'd encounter a very similar conversation a year later.