Tenth Meeting

Shikamaru could not sleep. His mind, with its infinite number of turning cogs and screws, was unable to stop replaying the image of Temari's face inching closer. Nor could he forget the feeling of her lips so soft against his, or the way his heart began to beat furiously against his chest and his lungs could not hold enough air. No, sleep was the last thing he was capable of reaching. It drifted ahead of him like a beckoning light, or like a blonde haired woman with lips he wished to kiss again.

But at some point, his eyes closed, his mind slowed, and sleep claimed him. Restless sleep, because the only thing his dreams could muster was the foggy image of Ino standing at the alter, only for her face to melt away and reveal Temari's. And it was not he who stood at her side. It was always someone else. Chouji. Hidan. A faceless man.

Shikamaru awoke to offending sunlight. Again. Somehow, rays of light still filtered through the grimy windows of the old, dusty school bus, stirring him. The bus was hazy with heat and humidity, making it that much harder to awaken.

He rubbed his eyes, groaned as he tried to peel himself away from the cracked leather seat that had practically adhered to his back, and sighed heavily as he realized he was drenched in sweat. Across from him was the object of his frustration (and his dreams). She was just as sweaty, but quite possibly three hundred times more beautiful and graceful in the humid, insipid, and highly oppressive heat. Even if her hair was matted and tangled.

"Morning," Temari said. She glanced at him briefly—all too briefly, if he was being honest—before looking away and busying herself with adjusting her shirt. It was a futile effort. He was rewarded with the sight of her shedding the offending item and replacing it with one she dug out of her luggage. When her head reappeared through her shirt, she said evenly, "We should get going."

"Right," he answered casually, even though his heart was beating wildly in his chest. Something had changed that night with their kiss and now everything was wrong. She wasn't looking at him. She wanted to go. She wanted to leave him. And as troublesome as it was, he wanted to be as close to her as he could.

"It's too hot to stay in here," she added a second later before propelling from her seat and setting down the aisle, pulling her luggage behind her.

"Right," he said again, because he'd lost his heart and his ability to speak intelligently. He followed quickly and almost stumbled into her as he scrambled down the steps of the bus. When he steadied himself, he rammed his hands into his pockets and started, "About last night—"

She laughed. "It was nothing." She patted his arm lightly but still didn't look at him. "Don't worry. Won't tell a soul. Not Chouji. Not even Ino, though it could totally work in getting her jealous."

And then she was walking, as if nothing had ever happened, as if she hadn't completely changed his life.

But Shikamaru didn't really want to argue with her. Arguing would be difficult. Whatever the kiss meant would be confusing. Trying to figure out what their relationship was now reduced to would be exasperating. So he shrugged, took up his duffel bag, and followed her to Fukuoka.

He was screwed in many ways, he figured.

First, and foremost, he was screwed because he had practically fallen headfirst into liking Temari after that shortlived kiss in the abandoned schoolbus. Second, he was screwed because unlike him, she was not in like with him, and so the kiss had only made her awkward. Not that he did anything to alleviate the situation. Instead, he just made things worse by staring forlornly after her, or trying to catch her eyes, or sticking his hands into his pockets and sulking while he sat on the white couch in the Sabaku's vast living room. Thirdly, he was screwed because the woman of his recent dreams was actually getting married. To some rich, dyed-blonde-haired idiot who operated a giant weapons company. And such a situation was very, very familiar. So familiar, in fact, that while Shikamaru sat sulking, he could think about just how unfair life was being for playing such a dirty trick on him. Again.

"What're you glaring at?" Temari asked him. She sat on the other end of the couch, glaring right back at him. It lasted only a moment before she was preoccupied with looking elsewhere. "Scared of meeting my brothers?"

And that was the fourth reason why he was screwed: he was meeting her brothers. He had a sneaking suspicion they were not going to like him.

He shrugged. "Too troublesome. Can't I go home already? I got you here safe and sound."

"Mostly safe," she corrected. "Not really 'sound.' I think you aggravated me for most of the trip."

Lifting an eyebrow in disbelief, he sank back, hoping stupidly to be swallowed up by the expensive white cushions. "I think I could say the same to you." He closed his eyes and attempted to furrow deeper into the couch and drown in a sea of white.

He heard her scoff but she didn't push the issue. She was probably already distracted with the promise of seeing her brothers.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a door being swung open and then a very loud, "She's here?! She didn't even call!" Heavy footsteps filled the otherwise quiet, stagnant air, forcing Shikamaru to slowly sit up and turn towards the sound. Soon, a bulky man came barreling down the stairs, stopping only when Temari stood and gave a short wave.

The man regarded her, irritated. "Seriously? Three days late."

She shrugged. "Got caught up in stuff."

The man—her brother, Shikamaru assumed—ran down the rest of the stairs. Although they looked nothing alike, what with the man's brown hair and eyes, Shikamaru knew they were related simply by the impressive glare he gave Temari as a response.

"We thought you died," he elaborated when he reached her.

She shrugged, all nonchalant. "If I'd died, you would've heard by now." Not a second later were her hips cocked and a malicious smirk curling her lips. "Don't tell me you were worried, bro."

The bro being referred to rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth.

In no time at all, Temari was wrapping her arm around her brother's neck and pulling him down to ruffle his hair. "My cute little brother, worried about his big sister."

Little brother? Shikamaru felt himself shrivel up and hoped he'd disappear into one of the cracks in the couch. He was her little brother? He was practically twice Shikamaru's size. Surely the man could crush him. Perhaps spear him with the half dozen katana that decorated the otherwise empty walls of the living room.

"Gaara almost went nuts," her brother mumbled darkly, attempting to pull away from Temari. "Like, gonna hire every Japanese policeman and detective type nuts."

Temari laughed. "How melodramatic of him."

"Wait—" and suddenly Shikamaru was looking straight up at the little brother, who from up close was actually even bigger than he'd been standing next to Temari, "—who the hell is this guy?"

"Nara Shikamaru," Temari answered flippantly. She finally released her brother and perched herself on the couch's armrest.

Her brother turned back to look at her. "Don't tell me you're late because you've been shacking up with him?"

"Yes."

Shikamaru sat up and held his arms up in defense. From what, he didn't know, but it seemed a necessary maneuver. "No!"

Temari grinned. "He's just so irresistible."

Her brother turned to look down at him and Shikamaru was sure he could see the end of his life reflected in the angry, narrowed eyes of the young Sabaku. "No, seriously, nothing happened," he attempted feebly, although it sounded rather unconvincing. It wasn't Shikamaru's fault that the night before appeared before his eyes in a flash and made his voice falter.

From behind Temari's brother, he could see the blonde frown. "Nothing?"

"How'd you two meet?"

"We fell in love at first sight—"

"I tried to kill myself and she saved me."

There was silence. Temari's smile fell instantly. She turned away and said, "That's enough, Kankurou."

Kankurou seemed like he wanted to say more but nodded stiffly, his mouth pressing into a thin line. Then, after a moment of silence, he said, "Gaara should be down in a moment. He was on a phone call."

As if summoned by those words, a young man with startlingly red hair and piercing blue eyes descended the stairs, his face impassive. Temari was once again smiling, a bright and genuine smile that surprised Shikamaru by its sheer beauty. She was by the stairs immediately.

"You're home," the man said, regarding Temari, as if memorizing her every feature.

"Hello to you too, Gaara."

Gaara gave a curt nod. "We were worried."

Temari turned sheepish, looking away to stare at her shoes. "I know, I know. Sorry."

"You apologize to him but give me crap?" Kankurou asked, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring daggers at his siblings. "I disown you as my sister."

"Whatever, Kranky."

Kankurou's face turned red. "Stop calling me that!"

Temari laughed heartily. "There's the face I love!"

"You are the worst sister ever."

"How old are you? You've been saying that since you were old enough to string the sentence together."

"You are the most annoying person in existence!"

"Is this how you welcome your sister? I could have died!"

"It would take a miracle to kill your stubborn ass!"

Shikamaru watched the exchange as if he were having an out-of-body experience. Temari, who started off with a curling lip and eyebrows cocked, had soon evolved into an irritated version of herself. Kankurou quickly became an enraged teenager. And Gaara stood calmly by, watching just as impassively as he was moments before the yelling started. Shikamaru swore he saw the redhead roll his blue eyes, but when he blinked, the man was simply staring at him.

Oh, Shikamaru felt himself grow small, he's going to kill me.

"Who is that?"

The words, although uttered in the same voice he'd been using to speak to his sister, caused both Temari and Kankurou to stop insulting each other. Temari look from Gaara to Shikamaru before saying, "Nara Shikamaru."

Silence. Then, "From Nara, Inc?"

Shikamaru nodded. "Yeah." From somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard his mother berate him for being improper.

"How did you meet my sister?"

"Ran into her on the train."

Gaara stared at him for a moment longer, perhaps sizing him up, or perhaps determining if he was telling the truth, and then nodded. "Will you join us for dinner?"

Shikamaru felt himself begin to answer, "No," before Temari's voice cut through and answered for him, "Of course he's staying for dinner."

The redhead looked at him, then at Temari, and then right back at him before nodding again. "Of course. I'll tell Baki to show you to the guestroom. In the meantime, Temari, Kankurou, will you join me upstairs? We have a few things to talk about."

There was nothing else to it. All three siblings were soon walking away, Temari turning back to give one fleeting glance at Shikamaru, and then an extremely tanned man with a bald and shiny head was directing Shikamaru to follow him to his temporary living space. The man, Baki, led him up the stairs and down a long hallway before opening a door and showing him through.

"Thanks," Shikamaru muttered, taking in the simple bedroom. Just the way he liked it.

Baki nodded and then he was gone.

Shikamaru surveyed the room with little interest, caring only for where he could dump his bag and then where he could dump himself. He fell against the bed, momentarily appreciated the memory foam mattress so uncommon in Japan, and then closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the world. He imagined fluffy clouds floating along the backs of his eyelids, but soon they all turned into suspicious silhouettes of the same person, and so he dispelled the clouds with mild irritation.

Surely dinner was not going to go well. Surely this whole trip was going to end in disaster. If not for him in terms of upsetting two of the most powerful business men in Japan, then surely in terms of breaking his heart all over again when he was forced to bid Temari adieu and watch her get married to some Yankee with blonde hair. What self-respecting Japanese businessman would dye his hair yellow anyway?

Shikamaru already hated Hidan and he'd never even met him.

He must have drifted off because the next thing he knew he was being shaken awake by Temari, her face looming above his, blonde hair like a halo against the lamplight shining above. She moved away as he sat up, scooting to the corner of the bed, hands in her lap.

"Morning, sleepy head," she said. Her smile was forced but at least she was looking at him.

"Good chat with your brothers?"

She didn't answer the question, instead retaliating with her own, "Did they scare you?"

"Absolutely," he answered honestly. "Do they hate me?"

"No," she said. Finally, her eyes turned downwards. "They have no reason to hate you. They're convinced I'm sleeping with you, but they don't hate you."

Shikamaru found that he would have preferred if they did hate him. At least then that meant they saw him as a threat to the marriage. Then that would mean he might at least have had a chance.

"Ready for dinner?" Temari was already standing, making her way to the door. She didn't turn back to look at him before leaving.

He found himself following after her quite a bit. He wondered if this was not the way it would remain. Always staring at her back, never by her side.

The door closed heavily behind him.

AN: I have no excuse. Updates will be sporadic, mostly because I'm uninspired, but also because I'm a teacher, I live in a foreign country and so I drink myself into a stupor most weekends, and I have enjoyed reading more and writing less. Which probably means my writing has suffered and so everything I write now will be complete and utter shit and why are you guys even following this story like, ugh, I suck.

If you're curious about my life in Korea or as an elementary school English teacher, I point you all to my profile where my blog is located. If you're not curious, don't check me out, 'cause otherwise I'm boring.

Before anyone asks: No, I'm not Korean. Nor am I Indian. I just happen to live in the RoK and like Bollywood movies.