A/N: Why does it seem like everything I write is ShikaTem? I'd like to get out of this…this… rut, but I don't even know if I can write anything else, because I've never tried! . Maybe it's fate. I have to master this before I can move on, or something like that. I don't really mind, though. ShikaTem is my fave pairing.

ANYWAY. New story, requested by the lovely usagiki1234. Another ShikaTem, of course, but it's all good. I'd like to establish right now that this story is completely separate from my other ShikaTem, and they have nothing to do with each other at all. That said, I'd like to welcome you to the madhouse that this story is bound to become. usagiki1234 has pretty much given me free reign over the events of the story, and I fully intend to make this as random as possible while still being realistic. So prepare for a roller coaster ride, girls and boys, this is gonna get wild!

Disclaimer: Everything except the plot line belongs to Kishimoto, blah blah blah.

--

She glanced down at the paper in her hands, trying in vain to decipher the directions written in chicken-scratch handwriting, shaking her head in exasperation. Gaara had always had awful penmanship, and it didn't help that the sun had set a long time ago. I've gotten this far, she thought, I can't be stopped by his illegible handwriting now! Having gone throughout the village searching for the address scrawled on the scrap of paper, she was now back on the outskirts of town, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the house would magically appear. And maybe she could finally get some sleep.

Temari shook her head violently. Sleep? A good ninja never gave in to fatigue! Sleep should have been the last thing on her mind. Right now, she was on a mission. And the first part of her mission was…

Finding the stupid house.

She growled impatiently, a scowl darkening her face. Usually she was pretty good with directions. No. Excellent with directions. But tonight, when she actually needed to find something, when all she wanted was to collapse into anything that slightly resembled a bed (Stop that! You're a ninja!), her GPS skills decided to go on the fritz.

Well, isn't this just lovely? she thought sarcastically, a wry smile crossing her lips. I'm stuck in a strange village, on a mission no less, and the hardest part is turning out to be finding the damn house. What kind of ninja are you anyway, Temari?

She squinted down at the paper. The number of the house was 26.

Or 20. Or 28.

Damn you and your chicken scratch! she silently cursed her brother, who, despite being the leader of the village, had never learned to write properly.

There! In front of her was house number 28. It seemed as good a house to try as any, so Temari stepped up to the front door and knocked. A light went on in the upstairs window, and she breathed a small sigh of relief. She could hear someone coming down the stairs…walking up to the door…and--

Hold the phone. This couldn't be the right house. Some weird dude was standing in the doorway in nothing but his boxer shorts, looking at her like she was the crazy one.

"Uh…can I help you?" he asked confusedly, his face scrunching up.

"You…you weren't expecting me?" Temari asked, equally baffled.

"No."

"Well, you don't live by yourself, do you?" Gaara had told her that she would be staying with a family of three.

"Actually, I do."

"Oh. Well, then, never mind. Wrong house. I'll be going now." She turned and left, leaving the mystified young man blinking hard and promising himself he would stop drinking before bed.

Temari fought back the overwhelming disappointment she felt at getting the wrong house. Maybe I should've lied and pretended I was supposed to be there. I'm sure he must've had an extra bed…She pinched her arm, hard. No more sleep thoughts.

She walked wearily to the next house down. Okay, last house for tonight, she said to herself. If this isn't it, then I will sleep on the ground and find it tomorrow. And she meant it.

Going up to the door, something behind the house caught her eye. Some kind of animal? She peered into the inky darkness, trying to see. It looked like…a deer? No, couldn't be. I definitely need some serious shut-eye. She rubbed her eyes and knocked on the door. She waited.

Nothing.

She tried again. And…

Silence.

Temari gathered up her last dregs of energy and pounded the door a good one. Nothing happened. She turned to go, discouraged beyond description, when a square of light thrown from the doorway landed on the ground beside her. She turned around and saw a woman silhouetted in the yellow light from the house.

"Are you the girl who's staying with us?" the woman inquired curtly. Temari could already tell that she wouldn't take any guff. "The one from the Sand?"

"Yes!" Temari exclaimed, almost laughing with sheer relief. "I mean, yes, that's me. Sabaku no Temari."

"Mm. Well, come in. It's one in the morning, and you look like you could use some rest." The woman beckoned to her, and Temari gladly entered the house.

The woman led her to the guest room, and Temari fell into bed, fully dressed, dead to the world before her head even hit the pillow.

--

"Why didn't anyone tell me about this?"

"Hey, kid, you are on a need-to-know basis, and since you don't own this house, I didn't think it was necessary for you to know about everyone that I decide to allow to stay with us."

"But I live here. You didn't think I needed to know that some random, troublesome chick is taking up my breathing space for the next god-knows-how-many months?!"

"Never let me hear you call a woman a 'chick' again!" A slap. "That is utterly offensive to women and I did not raise you to be discriminatory. And anyway, she's only staying for a few days."

"Really, Mom, do we even know this girl? For all we know, she could murder us in our beds any night."

"Well, nothing happened last night, did it?"

"That doesn't count, she could barely walk!"

Temari pushed herself up on one elbow, groggy with sleep, disoriented by the bright morning sunshine and the loud discussion taking place outside her room. For a moment a rush of adrenaline raced through her veins as she didn't recognize where she was; but then she remembered the events of the previous night and fell back onto the bed with a groan, her arm flopping over her eyes to block the sunlight. She tuned back into the conversation.

"Look, you! You're just so much dead weight. I'm sure that this young woman will be a much better investment than you!"

"Oh, thanks for believing in me, Mom, I'm glad my mother is so supportive!"

Temari recognized the woman's voice from last night, but the other voice was new. It sounded like a teenage boy, and from the sound of it, he wasn't very happy about her being here. I'll fix that attitude soon enough, she thought confidently. She got out of bed, looking around the room.

It really was a pretty room, simple but refreshing: all done up in white, with matching bed sheets and gauzy curtains that fluttered in the breeze coming in from the big open windows. The floor was a light shade of wood (is that oak wood?) and there was a door that she guessed led to the bathroom.

Snatching up a change of clothing and her toiletry bag, Temari stretched and marched off the bathroom. She figured the family feud would be ended by the time she finished showering.

--

Boy, was she wrong.

When Temari stepped out of the bathroom, freshly bathed and with clean clothes on, she was surprised to find that the argument was still being carried on quite vehemently outside the door. Finally she sighed and, deciding that it wasn't going to end unless something interrupted it, stepped out of the door to find mother and son staring each other down. Well, it was more like mother glaring and son pouting.

They both stopped abruptly when they noticed that Temari was standing there. The mother slapped on a smile and said something to the effect of 'good morning,' but the boy didn't even make an effort. He simply crossed his arms and looked away.

Temari smiled. "Good morning!" she chirped cheerfully, behaving like the epitome of optimism simply to see what would happen. And they reacted exactly as she predicted: The mother gave her a strained smile and said, "There's breakfast in the kitchen," gesturing vaguely behind her, and the boy harrumphed and didn't even bother looking her way.

As Temari went off to the kitchen, following her nose rather than the mother's directions, she heard her say, "We'll settle this later. You're going to get along with this girl if it kills you!"

Temari had just sat down at the dining table with her chocolate-chip pancakes when the boy came in, slouching dreadfully. She winced at his terrible posture, checking herself to make sure she was sitting up straight.

He sat down opposite her, not looking at her, not even acknowledging her presence. Temari studied him. He was tall (as she remembered from when she stood next to him; he was almost a full foot taller than she), with black hair pulled into a spiky ponytail and dark eyes that exuded cynicism, almost as much as her own. He had a nice bone structure, making him look older than he probably was (she guessed he was younger than herself), and she found herself chuckling at the babyish pout face he was making.

He suddenly looked up and for the first time, their eyes met. Temari instantly tried to read his expression, but all she saw was resentment and faint annoyance. His thin eyebrows were arranged in a frown. "What are you looking at?" he asked abruptly, crossing his arms.

"Who, me? Nothing," she replied sweetly, "except for a big teenaged baby."

"What?!"

"You heard me. You're probably about, what, fifteen, sixteen? And yet you're throwing a tantrum like you're two. My baby cousin is more mature than you are."

"Tch, whatever," he replied, shrugging. "I don't have to listen to this. You're the guest here, not me."

"Not for long," Temari said. "I'm already making myself at home. In case you didn't know, I'm going to be here for seven weeks."

The boy, who had taken a swig of orange juice, instantly spat it out. His stricken expression made Temari laugh.

"Yep, I'm gonna be here for a while, so you better get used to me, crybaby," she smirked, throwing a paper towel at him. He scowled and picked it up, using it to clean the spilled juice from the table.

There was silence for a while, during which Temari caught him stealing glances at her. She didn't bust him on it; after all, she had checked him out only a few minutes earlier, right? Finally, after several minutes of silence, she heard a resignated sigh and the question, "So who are you, anyway?"

Now we're getting somewhere! she thought. Out loud she said, "Temari. And who are you?"

"Shikamaru."

"Any nicknames, Shika?"

"No. And don't call me that." Immediately the wall was back up. Ah, well, Temari thought, we've got seven whole weeks to learn about each other. She took another giant bite of pancake and smirked smugly at the frowning boy opposite her. He was going to have to get over his little attitude problem. Because it's nothing compared to mine.

--

A/N: In case you didn't notice, our lovely (future) couple Shikamaru and Temari don't know each other in this fic. It just worked out better if she's new in the village and everyone's meeting her fresh. Oh, before I forget: if anybody has anything random and odd that they want to happen, just shout! There are limitless possibilities here, so nothing is too crazy. Shit, there could be flying turtles, for all I care. And…I'm going to go to sleep now. It's a quarter to two in the morning over here, and I feel like I'm gonna fall over. So goodnight, sleep tight, and dream about ShikaTem tonight!

Hey, that rhymed.

Hugs and kisses! XOXO

And btw, I don't remember the exact number of facial muscles it takes to frown...so if I got it wrong, bear with me!