A/N: Hi, friends. Thanks for coming back for another read. I'm trying to shift POV's every once in a while to make the story more dynamic and give both perspectives. I hope that the POV's match their personalities, Temari more open and Shikamaru more introspective. Anyway, thanks for reading, please follow, like, save. :)

- x -

Wispy clouds floated slowly across the early morning sky, stars slowly fading out of view as the sun began peaking over the horizon. The air was still with birds not even waking from their slumber. Shikamaru lay against the cool grass, paying no mind to the dew dampening his flak jacket. He rhythmicallyand methodically flipped open Asuma's lighter, flicking the ignition, lighting the flame, snapping it closed. Flip, flick, light, snap. Again, again, again.

Shikamaru often came to the cemetery in theearly morning hours, his mind asking questions he knew the dead could never answer. Perhaps that's why it became a routine - he knew there were no answers and he found it easier to be denied clarity from the dead thanapathy from the living. He sat up slowly, slipping a cigarette from his front pocket. The sweet smell of tobacco wafting from it as he set it alight and placed it gently on the tombstone next to him. Good talk, Asuma.Shikamaru placed a hand on the grass below it, fiddling the blades between his middle finger and thumb. Finally rising to his feet, he stretched and turned towards the path behind him.

The cemetery was, fortunately, always empty this early in the day. Grief tended to hit most at night, in empty homes and empty beds, but Shikamaru felt it the worst in the mornings. He and Shikaku tended to play shogi at daybreak as his mom prepared breakfast, his old man often scolding him for his laziness and lack of drive - pushing him to train harder, work harder, think of the future. But the shogi board now sat in the den, covered in a thin layer of dust. His normal routine, shaken by something as trivial as death.

Yet, he hadn't visited his father's grave since his passing. Shikamaru had visited Asuma nearly every day he was in the village, but made it a point to avoid the end of the cemetery where his father rested. It wasn't denial, Shikamaru was all too aware - but if he didn't visit, he could somehow pretend that his father was away. He was just on a mission. He was just too busy to be home. He was with mom at her sister's house. He was an important man, he just couldn't be around. Perhaps that's why he never put the shogi board away - they would pick back up on their match when he got back.

He lifted a cigarette to his lips. Flick, flip, light, snap. Inhale, exhale. Rhythmic. Routine. Shikamaru liked routine. He liked knowing what to expect, yet he found his mind wandering to the most unpredictable, difficult woman he could have chosen to orbit around - and orbit he did. Temari was a force of nature, drawing him in by her mere presence. She was, by his definition, incredibly troublesome. Always pushing his buttons, always finding a way to tease him. His brow furrowed, pulling smoke into his throat.

He kept her at arm's length, always. Sure, he orbited, but never collided, never approached. Shikamaru would only ever admit to himself, in the cloak of morning solitude, that he was deeply afraid of the collision. He wanted to know her in a way he denied others from knowing him. But they were too deeply connected to their villages, their lives, their responsibilities. So he flirted in absence of being able to do much else, sometimes more than he meant to, and she'd leave. The dust would settle, and the routine would start again. Never getting too close. Orbiting.

But here she was, for an unavoidable amount of time and he feared he couldn't draw out the routine for that long. The dust wouldn't settle. He wanted her in a way that made his chest ache. He knew she could pick up on his distance the night before last. He knew she was avoiding him now. He knew, she knew. Inhale, exhale. What a drag.

- x -

Shikamaru laid back against the hill, his leg crossed over his knee, his arms behind his head like a pillow. Fluffy white clouds floated to the east, he studied each one carefully, almost hoping to see something that would redirect his thoughts, give him some motivation to do something - anything at all - to keep his mind occupied. But the clouds remained silent, damning him to listen to his feeble brain flounder over how to talk to some girl for the next couple of months. Shikamaru wanted to have another cigarette to ease his woes but thought better of it, placing a toothpick against his teeth to rapidly roll across his lips.

Shit, he groaned,I'm so fu-.

"Thought I'd find you here," The devil herself spoke, leaning over him suddenly like he had done to her on her way into the village. Shikamaru nearly jumped out of his skin, his overreaction actually startling Temari.

"Jeez, Temari." Shikamaru clutched at his chest through his flak jacket. It was prophetic, in his mind, how much they mirrored one another. Perhaps the orbit was mutual. "Scared the shit out of me."

"Clearly." She let out a soft laugh before pointing to the ground beside him. "Can I sit?"

He nodded as he closed his eyes, realizing he was backed into a corner here. If he left now, it would be painfully obvious he was avoiding her, which he truly didn't want to do but felt he needed to. Self-preservation, he believed earnestly. But the best he could do was avoid looking at her.

"Listen, Shikamaru," she began, her voice melted him, he desperately wanted to hear her say his name again, again, again. "Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? I'm not a great cook but we can do takeaways or something? Only if you're not busy. I feel like I owe you for the gift."

"I'm not busy," Shikamaru said almost a half second too quickly. Smooth. "I can, uh, I can pick something up." Terrible recovery.

Temari didn't speak, but Shikamaru heardher shifting to lie down next to him. His heartbeat erratic, admonishing himself both for agreeing without thinking and sounding desperate. He couldn't articulate why this song and dance was becoming more and more of a struggle for him. They had been friends, or whatever one would call this, for years. This routine of theirs wasn't new, but he relished in the indulgence every time. Thrill of the chase. Shikamaru could swear he was an addict, every time he got a taste, he wanted more. He wanted her. Her weight shifted again, he could feel her staring at him.
"What are you looking at?" Shikamaru drolled, keeping his eyes closed.

"Just.. why did you get me a gift, anyway?"

"What, I can't just do something nice?" Shikamaru countered, his voice tense, because he knew this line of questioning was going to get him into trouble. He, boy genius, didn't actually know why he had done it.

"I can't say I recall the last time you did anything nice." Temari laughed, seeming to enjoy teasing him.

"I do nice things all the time," Shikamaru said, opening his eyes in frustration. He could feel a blush crawling across his cheeks. She had propped her head on the heel of her hand, her eyes half closed as she looked at him. She was close tohim, painfully close. He could cross the distance in a second, but instead closed his eyes again in an attempt to avoid the gaze that bore through him.

"I'm sure," Temari mused, "Come over around 7. Don't be late."

"Got it."

Just like that, she was gone.