Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part 1- the ceremony
Pov- Temari

The war was over. But for Shikamaru Nara, peace was heavier than any battlefield.
He stood at the edge of the crowd in the Konoha cemetery, hands shoved in his pockets, jaw clenched tight. The sky was gray and low, threatening rain but refusing to deliver. It felt like the world was holding its breath. The kind of stillness that didn’t soothe, but suffocated.

A shinobi like his father deserved thunder. Maybe even a storm.

Instead, there was just silence — thick, bitter, and cruel.

The wind rustled through the trees, stirring the incense smoke rising from the altars, curling in the air like something reluctant to leave.

Shikamaru didn’t move.

From a distance, Temari watched him.

She hadn’t planned to return to Konoha so soon. Not like this.

But when word reached Suna that Shikaku Nara had died during the war, something in her chest twisted. Not just grief — urgency. For Shikamaru. For the boy who once called her “troublesome” with a half-smile and eyes that lingered a second too long.

She hadn’t seen him since before the war — before everything fell apart.
Now, he looked older. Not just in the sharper angles of his face or the tension in his shoulders, but in the way he stood like a man hollowed out. Like something vital had been cut from him and never stitched back in.

Even hours after the ceremony ended, Temari could still smell the smoke clinging to her clothes — thick, acrid, and bitter, like regret.

She found him behind the Hokage monument, cigarette smoldering between his fingers, his gaze cast somewhere far beyond the village skyline.

“You weren’t even there when they lowered the casket,” she said quietly, arms crossed over her chest.

He didn’t look at her. Just took a drag, the tip glowing briefly. “Didn’t need to be,” he muttered. “He’s not there. Just a box. A stone. What’s the point?”

Temari’s jaw tightened. “Your friends were there. Your mom. You could’ve—”

He chuckled. It was bitter, low. Hollow. “Wow. Came all this way just to lecture me? That’s rich.”

“No,” she snapped, louder than she meant. “I came because I care. Because I thought maybe you’d need—”

“You thought wrong.”

The words hit like a kunai to the chest.

Temari froze. She could handle anger. Hell, she expected anger. But this — this cold, surgical detachment, the cutting precision of his voice — that wasn’t the Shikamaru she knew.
Still… she didn’t walk away.

“Don’t,” he said sharply. His eyes met hers then — glassy, guarded, and darker than she remembered. “Don’t pretend like you understand.”

She flinched. “Shikamaru—”

“You lost your parents when you were a kid, right?” he interrupted, turning to face her fully now. His voice was hard, a blade drawn without warning. “You probably don’t even remember what it’s like. So don’t stand there and act like you get what this is.”

The silence between them was brutal.

Temari’s breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted, but no words came at first. The air around them felt thinner suddenly, like it didn’t want to carry whatever came next.
But she didn’t back down.

“You’re right,” she said finally, voice steady even as it trembled beneath. “I don’t remember every detail. But I do remember what it’s like to grow up with a hole that never really closes.”
She stepped closer, gaze never leaving his. “I remember waking up every day and wondering why the world kept moving. I remember watching my brothers cry themselves to sleep and pretending I didn’t hear it so I could keep it together for them. I remember being angry for years at people who tried to help because it was easier than admitting I needed it.”

His expression faltered — just for a second. But she saw it.

She swallowed hard. “And I remember what it’s like to push people away before they can leave you.”

She was close now. Close enough to see the exhaustion in his eyes. Close enough to know he hadn’t slept.

“You’re hurting,” she said, voice low. “But that doesn’t give you the right to hurt everyone else. Especially the people that…”

Her voice caught.
Her heart thundered.

“…the people that love you.”

It slipped out — love. A word she hadn’t planned to say. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But it was out there now, raw and naked between them.

The world stilled.

Shikamaru didn’t speak.

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t take it back. She couldn’t.

“You’re not the only one who lost something in this war, Shikamaru.”

Then she turned, sandals crunching on gravel, and walked away — leaving him in a haze of ash, silence, and the sting of everything he hadn’t been ready to hear.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2:
1:17 A.M.
POV: Shikamaru

Sleep wouldn’t come.

Shikamaru lay on his back, staring at the ceiling — at the same constellation of cracks he’d counted a hundred times already. The fan creaked above him in slow, lazy arcs, the kind of rhythm that mocked his racing thoughts.

Temari’s voice kept playing in his head like a loop he couldn’t turn off:

“You’re not the only one who lost something in this war.”
“You don’t get to push everyone away.”
“The people that… love you.”

That last line was the one that hit hardest.

Love you.

She’d said it. Stumbled over it, almost like she didn’t mean to — but it had been real. Raw. It slipped out the way real things do, unfiltered and dangerous.

And what had he done?

Thrown her trauma back in her face.

He sat up suddenly, shoving the blankets off with a grunt. The air in the room was thick, hot, and he couldn’t breathe. His grief sat heavy in his chest like a second heartbeat. Loud. Constant. Suffocating.

It reminded him of Asuma. Of the ache that never really went away — just shifted and buried itself deeper.

Now it had returned with a new name. A new face. His father’s.

And somehow, even in all that loss, it was Temari he couldn’t stop thinking about.

He could still see her walking away from him earlier — proud and composed, but with fire burning in her eyes. He knew she was only holding it together through sheer force of will.

It was what had drawn him to her in the first place. Her strength. Her unwillingness to be anyone’s second thought.

And now he’d hurt her. Badly.

Shikamaru stood, grabbed a sweatshirt, and yanked it over his head. His body moved before his mind caught up.

Down the hallway. Out the door. Past the quiet homes of a village still healing. Through streets that held the ghost of battle, of peace too new to be trusted.

Left at the inn where the Suna delegation stayed.

He stopped in front of her door. Just stood there.

Hand raised. Hovering.

What if she slammed it in his face?

What if she said it was too late?

He wouldn’t blame her. He would probably do the same

But the silence was worse. It still haunted him.

He knocked.

One second. Two.

He thought about running.

Then — a shuffle behind the door. Light footsteps.

The handle turned.

And there she was.

Temari stood in the dim glow of the hallway light — hair down in soft waves that framed her face, an oversized sleep shirt falling just above her knees, bare legs and sock-covered feet. Her eyes were wide with surprise, slightly red around the edges like maybe, maybe, he had made her cry.

His heart twisted.

God, she looked beautiful.

It hurt.

“Shikamaru?” she whispered, voice hoarse with sleep. “What the hell—?”

“I know,” he said quickly, stepping forward. “I know it’s late. I know I shouldn’t be here.”

She blinked, still processing. “It’s— It’s one in the morning. Have you been walking around all night? What are you—?”

“I’m sorry.”

That shut her up.

His voice was rough, but steady. “I’m sorry for what I said. About your parents. That was cruel. You didn’t deserve that.”

Temari’s lips parted, but no words came.

“I was trying to push you away,” he said, softer now. “Because you were right. I didn’t want anyone close. Not when it hurts like this.”

She stared at him like she wasn’t sure if he was real.

“I don’t want to keep doing that,” he said. “Especially not with you.”

He stepped closer.

Close enough to smell her — Vanilla and warmth, something uniquely hers.

Close enough to see the flicker of something in her eyes — disbelief, forgiveness, need.

And before either of them could ruin it with more words, he leaned in.

Their lips met.

It wasn’t soft. It was messy and aching and real. His hand cradled the back of her head, her fingers curled against his chest like she didn’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away.

But she didn’t push him away.

He kissed her like she was the last thing tethering him to the ground.

And maybe she was.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers. Her hands were still against his chest, clutching fabric like it was armor.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “And… I love you too.”

Her eyes searched his.

Like she didn’t trust the moment. Like maybe she’d wake up and this wouldn’t be real.

But she didn’t close the door.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Like Fire and Wind
POV: Temari
Post-War, Same Night

The kiss still burned on her lips.

Temari stood frozen in the doorway, heart hammering in her chest, skin flushed, her pulse still racing like she’d just walked off a battlefield. Every logical part of her brain screamed at her to take a breath. To regain control.

But all she could think about was the look on Shikamaru’s face — the rare, open softness in it — and the way his voice had cracked when he whispered, I love you too, like he barely believed it himself.

He hadn’t stepped back. And she hadn’t told him to.

They were so close now. Too close. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, smell the faint mix of smoke and sandalwood clinging to the hoodie he’d thrown on in a rush. His breath came uneven, shallow, mirroring her own. His hands stayed clenched at his sides like he didn’t trust himself to move — to touch her again — without unraveling.

Goddamn it.

“I…” she started, but the words caught in her throat. What the hell was wrong with her? She didn’t get tongue-tied. She didn’t freeze. “That was… unexpected.”

Shikamaru gave a low, breathless chuckle. “Troublesome?”

The corner of her mouth twitched, despite herself.
But the fire still lingered in her belly — coiled and persistent. She wasn’t naive. She’d always known there was something between them. A pull. A current. An itch that flared whenever they shared space. She felt it in the way he challenged her, in how he never looked away when she glared, and in the way his eyes lingered a second too long when he thought she wasn’t watching.

But this?

This wasn’t just tension.

That kiss wasn’t just a release.

It was a revelation.

She reached for the doorframe, grounding herself against the sudden weight of all that it meant. Her voice came low, almost unsure. “Do you want to come in?”

He blinked — startled, like he hadn’t expected her to ask. “Are you sure?”

No. Not entirely.

But she wanted to be.

Temari stepped aside, watching him move past her into the room. The air shifted the second he crossed the threshold — thicker somehow. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to play it cool. Just stood there, stiff and awkward near the bed, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets like a genin on his first mission.

She closed the door softly behind them, trying to ignore how her skin buzzed with awareness. Every step closer made her heartbeat louder. This was real.
“You okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper now.

Shikamaru glanced at her, then looked away. “Not really.”

It hit her harder than she expected — that honesty. That quiet surrender in him.

There was something almost unbearable in the way he said it. No defense. No mask. Just the truth.
Temari crossed the room without thinking. Her fingers brushed against his wrist, and he looked at her then, with a longing she could notice. Her breath caught.

“I meant what I said,” she whispered. “About loving you.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“I would be lying if that didn’t scare the crap out of me,” she admitted, her words rough with vulnerability. “I didn’t expect to say it. And I wasn’t asking for anything back—” she hesitated, then added more softly, “But… I’m not taking it back either.”

She was close again now.

Too close.

And every part of her felt it — the magnetic hum between them, the weight of his stare, the electricity skimming over her bare legs where the hem of her sleep shirt hung low and unbothered by decency.

His fingers ghosted over her waist. Barely there. Testing. Her breath hitched. He wasn’t even touching her properly, and already her skin felt like it was catching fire.

“I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “for a long time.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

He looked at her like she’d asked him to walk through fire.

“Because if I started… I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop.”

Her stomach flipped.

And that was it.

Temari grabbed the front of his hoodie and pulled him into her

They didn’t move fast. There was no clumsiness, no rush. Just hunger. Intent. Her hands slid up into his hair, pulling it free from the tie. His fingers splayed wide against her waist, sliding up the bare skin beneath her shirt but going no further.

He was holding back — barely — every muscle in his body drawn tight with restraint. She felt it in his hands, in his breath, in the quiet way he trembled under her touch.

And god… that only made her want him more.
But for now, this was enough.

Temari pulled back, lips parted, just enough to rest her forehead against his. She was flushed and breathless, and something in her chest ached in the best and worst way.

“I don’t want to be a mistake you make in the middle of the night,” she whispered.

“You’re not,” he said instantly, no hesitation, no space for doubt. “You’re the only thing that’s made sense in days.”

She let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into the soft fabric at his chest again.

Her voice was quieter now. Rougher. “I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

“I still think you’re emotionally constipated.”

“Accurate.”

She smiled for the first time since coming back to Konoha

Then his voice dipped, brushing the shell of her ear. “But you still want me here.”

“…Yes.”

“I’ll stay,” he said.

And for once, she didn’t fight it.