Mutual Understanding
"I think I'd kill myself if I ever fell in love with you," she said, honestly. Probably the most honest thing she had said in a long time.
He turned his head toward her, the only sign indicating that he'd heard her. That statement should have hurt, at least a little, but all he thought was that her eyes were a darker shade of blue today and her usual guarded, confident façade was replaced by a more relaxed demeanor while she sat next to him under the sparse shade of the battered tree.
And he could read between the lines.
"You have to admit, we would never work," she continued. He agreed silently, but made no move to voice his opinion. He found that if he just let her talk (or rant and complain) with a few strategic responses on his part, he could avoid unnecessary drama and a headache.
"For one, I talk too much and you not enough," she had slight lilt to her voice, almost teasing, "some people would think we'd balance each other out, but I would get pissed off because I'd be talking to a wall and you'd be annoyed because of my incessant chatter, when all you really want is peace and quiet." She seemed to ponder her last statement. "And people would say that you weren't really listening to what I was saying anyway,"
She paused, looking at him expectantly.
Was she serious? Did she want his reassurance, that yes, he was actually listening to her? He wasn't going to give her that benefit. What was it with women and needing constant reassurance? She knows that he listens to her every word not matter how dull or trite. That's just how he was. He wasn't going to tell her that he listened to her talk.
Or that he liked to listen to her talk for that matter.
He was tempted to let out a frustrated sigh at her expectant look, but he had more control than that. Instead he shifted his gaze away from her to the training ground that they had just been sparring on and leaned against the rough bark of the tree. He closed his eyes, although she couldn't see that.
She seemed content with that small movement even if he wasn't facing her anymore. Clearly he was not happy with where her topic was going. If she knew one thing, it was body language, and she could always read him like an open book. She moved closer to him so she could lean against the tree as well. Her shoulder touched his but he didn't flinch away from the contact, instead he let the warmth of her body seep into his.
"You don't really care what people think though," she mused. But she did. He knew that. Because he could read between the lines.
"Hmm…" It seemed that she had finally run out of things to say.
They sat next to each other in companionable silence, watching the leaves of the trees around them sway back and forth with the breeze. And she thought these were the best moments, when she sat silently next to him after one of their sporadic training sessions, thoroughly exhausted and spent, and watching the scenery before them even if it was of damaged trees and fallen weapons.
"But they'd be wrong," she whispered after awhile.
Shino tilted his head, not understanding what she meant.
The dazed look left Ino's face as she faced him again, "About us," she repeated, "they'd be wrong about us." And for some reason, that didn't matter.
Shino's mouth curved up into an almost smile. His hand moved to cover her small calloused one next to him. Ino couldn't help but grin; only she could read him like an open book. She shifted to kiss him on the cheek and he could feel her eyelashes brush against his skin. "You're awfully talkative today," her hot breath sent tingles down his spine.
He removed his sunglasses and turned toward her, skimming over her features. A warm feeling spread over Ino under his scrutiny. "Well," Shino started, dipping down to capture her lips, "maybe we should change that."
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He didn't know how to tell her that it was okay to fall in love with him, that maybe he might love her too, even if it would never work.
Somehow, it was a mutual understanding.
A/N: Tell me what you think...
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