A/N: This is the start of a new series of one-shots centered around the word "Home". In her brilliance, RamaChan created a new piece with that as a title, and I was so inspired by her art and the depth of emotion that can be felt with that one word, that I immediately put pen to paper. I hope that Rama is okay with her artwork serving as my muse once again.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately I lack the talent of both Masashi Kishimoto and RamaChan. Tadashi and Yuki actually are mine...they're the names of two of my kittens.

Chapter 1: Shikamaru and Temari

He was sweaty and covered in a mixture of dirt and blood. This was the part of the mission he detested the most; the end of the battle. Time to bandage wounds, identify the dead-always praying that the other side lost more, and organizing the journey back to the village. He sighed, for all the smoke and mirrors that the jounin possessed, they still hadn't figured out how to transport the dead bodies back instantly. They still had to carry their comrades, sometimes for days across vast expanses of ground. Funny how the journey out never seemed to take as long.

In it's own way it was probably a good thing . The inbetween days gave him time to think about what he would say to the family members. Noone wanted to hear that their child died screaming for his mother, or had their body riddled with shuriken before they had a chance to use that family jutsu they'd been practicing all their lives. Instead they wanted to hear how Tadashi took out five of the enemy before he died heroically saving the life of a teammate. How Yuki was so concentrated on the three she was fighting off with her family jutsu that she didn't see the fourth hiding cowardly behind a tree. It wasn't exactly the same as telling lies, he liked to think of it as an abridged version of the truth. It allowed the dead to be grieved like the heroes they were. The unabridged version was dirty, sweaty, and sometimes pathetic.

Nobody wanted to hear the unabridged version, but she always listened anyways. She understood all too well the lifestyle they'd chosen, the chances they took every time either of them left on a mission. They realized that every day they had together was one less for someone else. One more time they cheated death.

She understood the desperate turn their lovemaking took, and he understood the need for extra closeness afterward. They both knew that when it came to their children, they'd rather enjoy the silliness than sweat the small stuff. Holidays and birthdays were always extra festive with friends and family gathered together around a heavily laden table.

Shikamaru knew how lucky he was to have a wife like Temari. Even when he wasn't freshly showered, even when the stench of death clung to his skin for days afterward, she'd still wrap her arms around him and welcome him home.