Work Text:
“Mom?”
The voice was just barely a whisper, one tiny little declaration in a room of darkness, barely even audible over the sound of wind howling outside.
When no response came – Temari was perfectly still, a mass of wayward blonde curls – Shikadai edged even closer, leaning over her and trying again in the same whisper, “Mom.”
After patiently awaiting a response and receiving none, Shikadai sighed lightly. “I know you’re awake. You’re a shinobi.”
That coaxed one teal eye open, and Temari looked at him. He stood right in her space, hair ruffled, clutching his fluffy white duck to his chest. “What do you need, little one?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re not in bed.”
Behind Temari’s back, there was a soft, amused snort from Shikamaru.
“Can I sleep here?” Shikadai asked, already standing with his legs pressed to the edge of the bed, ready at a moment’s notice to jump in.
Too tired to bother with an argument, Temari just nodded. Shikadai didn’t wait for her to change her mind, scrambling over her and burrowing under the blankets between his parents. Temari rolled over to face him, putting an arm around him and pressing a kiss to his forehead. His little heart was hammering unusually fast, and Temari opened her eyes, locking them onto Shikamaru with a meaningful raise of her eyebrows.
Shikamaru just raised his eyebrows right back at her.
“Did you have a nightmare?” Temari asked.
Shikadai stilled in her arms. He took a moment to think, to consider an answer, and it drew a soft smile from Temari because that was so much like his father – always thinking things through, considering possibilities and outcomes, never blurting out his first thought.
“No,” he settled on eventually, unconsciously ducking his head down to hide his face and the lie. He hid his expression in his duck, still holding it tightly. After a pause, in a voice muffled by embarrassment, he added, “I just wanted to sleep with you.”
Shikamaru smiled, shaking his head slightly. It wasn’t the first time Shikadai had hidden a nightmare behind an excuse.
“Well,” Temari said softly into his hair. “Since you’re here now, you might as well stay.”
Satisfied, Shikadai snuggled in closer.
When Temari awoke in the morning she had a duck in her face, and Shikadai had migrated across the bed to nestle into Shikamaru. She took a moment to watch them both; Shikadai huddled up and small, cradled in the curve of Shikamaru’s body.
As if feeling her eyes on him, Shikamaru’s fluttered open, blinking a few times before meeting her gaze. He shifted a bit, letting out a deep breath and drawing Shikadai closer to his chest.
Shikadai nuzzled a bit more into Shikamaru’s shirt before drawing his face back and blinking rapidly.
“Morning, kid,” Shikamaru said. “Sleep better?”
Shikadai nodded sleepily.
“No bad dreams?”
“I don’t have bad dreams,” Shikadai replied instantly, shifting onto his back and staring at nothing. He looked like he was thinking hard, chewing on his lower lip and green eyes pensive. He flicked his gaze to his father, then looked away again.
“Do you ever have nightmares?” Shikadai asked quietly. He fidgeted with his hands.
Temari waited to see what Shikamaru’s answer would be. She knew, better than anyone, what plagued his mind at night. She couldn’t count the number of nights he had woken up shaking, his mind always replaying what he considered his greatest failures.
His first Chuunin mission; that was never far from his thoughts. Asuma’s death. His father’s death. Things he couldn’t control, things he couldn’t stop. His worst failures that he felt should have never happened. Shikamaru, for all his laziness and nonchalance, was self-critical and easily rattled.
“Everyone has nightmares,” Shikamaru replied, running a hand through his hair. “It’s normal. It’s fine.”
“I don’t have nightmares,” Shikadai muttered. He squirmed about until he retrieved his duck from under Temari’s hair and pulled it to his chest. After a short pause, he glanced at his father, then away again. He kept himself occupied, fiddling with his duck.
“If I did,” Shikadai started, avoiding eye contact. “I think it would be about monsters chasing me. But it’s not.”
“I see,” Shikamaru tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. “So, these hypothetical monsters, why do you think they would chase you?”
Shikadai shrugged. “Dunno.”
“Do you think there would be any way to get them to stop?” Shikamaru prompted, gently encouraging Shikadai to think his way through the problem.
Shikadai finally looked at him. “They come out when it’s dark. Maybe if it wasn’t too dark, that would scare them away.” He mused thoughtfully. “Lots of light would work. Then they would run away.”
Temari waited, interested to see where Shikamaru was trying to lead Shikadai’s thoughts.
“Would the light stop them from chasing you?” Shikamaru asked.
Shikadai paused, squinting at his father. He looked away after a moment. “If I had nightmares – which I don’t-“ (Shikamaru rolled his eyes at Temari and mouthed ‘That’s you there, you stubborn woman’) “- Then sometimes the light doesn’t work and they still chase me. Or they would.”
“So how would you protect yourself, if that ever happened?”
Shikadai snuggled happily in Shikamaru’s hold. “Then I would come here and you and Mom would protect me.” Suddenly realizing he might have admitted something he didn’t want to admit, he added hastily, “But last night wasn’t like that.”
“Of course it wasn’t.”
Temari studied the window, trying not to shake with laughter.
“So,” Shikamaru continued, “If those monsters happened to follow you here – lucky they didn’t – then what would your mom and I do to stop them?”
Shikadai shrugged. “Guess you’d use your shadows to stop them. Seems the easiest.”
“Then would it help if I taught you how to do that?” Shikamaru asked. “So you can protect yourself?”
Shikadai considered that for a moment. “Maybe . . .”
“All you need is a little bit of light,” Shikamaru said. “Just enough to cast a shadow.” He reached out a hand, running his fingers through Shikadai’s wild hair. “As long as you can find a light, and find a shadow, you’ll always be safe.”
Temari flicked her eyes to Shikamaru.
“I guess it could work,” Shikadai said slowly. “Can you show me how to move shadows now?”
“I’m in bed,” Shikamaru protested mildly, settling back down into his pillow.
“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve used them in bed,” Temari muttered, and Shikamaru was certain Shikadai wasn’t supposed to hear this, but he perked up and asked cheerily, “So you’ve used your shadows to catch bad things in bed?”
“Yes,” Shikamaru said. “Terrible, terrible things. That nag and yell all the time.”
Shikadai winced. “That sounds scary. I hope I never have dreams like that.”
Temari was glaring at him rather dramatically over Shikadai’s head, and he grinned sheepishly back. Oh, he was going to get such a talking to when Shikadai left.
“I’m gonna kick your ass,” Temari mouthed.
“You started it,” he mouthed back.
“Gotta pee,” Shikamaru announced. “Hold my duck.”
He handed the duck to Temari and clambered over Shikamaru, who let out a soft groan as Shikadai’s bony knee pressed into his stomach.
Temari waited until her child was out the room before sitting up and demanding, “Why is he having nightmares? He’s three.”
“He’s four?”
Temari paused. “. . . What month is it?”
Shikamaru shrugged.
“However old he is doesn’t matter – why is he now suddenly waking up all the time?”
“Kids do that,” Shikamaru said dismissively, with a yawn. “Suddenly realize the world’s full of monsters. It’s okay. He’s safe with us. He’ll learn the monsters aren’t real.”
“Sure about that?” Temari asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. Are you telling me you never had a time where you checked the windows were closed before bed so the monsters didn’t get in the house?”
“All my monsters were already inside the house.”
Shikamaru paused then, studying her carefully. Temari looked levelly back at him. That was clearly a subject they would have to unpack later, but for now, Shikadai was the priority. Temari had long since come to peace with whatever she had lived through.
Shikadai returned, clambering back over Shikamaru with a knee to his thigh, and settled back into bed between both parents. He fiddled his fingers together for a bit, before asking quietly, “Will learning to move shadows really keep the monsters away?”
After a short consideration, he added, “If there are any. Which there aren’t.”
Shikamaru closed his eyes briefly in an effort not to roll them again. “Yeah. You’ll be safe. Remember, I use my shadows to protect people?”
“I remember.” Shikadai mumbled, his voice dropping even quieter. “. . . Chocho’s mom said people get nightmares when they have thoughts that are bothering them. Like things that happened. You know . . . like last week when those bandits attacked outside the village and Mom went to fight them, and got hurt, and Dad was scared. And then Mom said she had another mission tomorrow, and . . .”
Barely audible, he continued. “Didn’t scare me. But stuff like that might. Might scare someone else. Like Chocho.”
There it was, Shikamaru thought. The sudden, terrifying realization that people were mortal, that lives could end, that loved ones could leave you without a warning. He let out a breath, trying to figure out what to say. Because he couldn’t promise that everyone would be okay, and life would never get hard, and no one would ever leave him suddenly. He couldn’t promise that nothing would happen on a mission and every time anyone left on one that they would return safely.
“Shikadai,” Temari said patiently.
Shikadai didn’t look at her. He kept his gaze firmly downwards, with the stubborn tilt to his jaw appearing as it often did when he was unsure about something.
“It’s okay to be scared. Of monsters and losing people. Because those things are real, and they do happen.”
Shikadai shrugged, kneading the blanket between his fingers, and Shikamaru stayed quiet.
“And the things we fear sometimes show up in our heads when we’re asleep. It’s okay. You can’t control your thoughts all the time.”
And that was the real problem – a lack of control. Shikadai couldn’t control his dreams and he couldn’t control his nightmares, and he couldn’t control life and fate and the thousand other things that came together to decide who lived long and who died young. And no child knows how to deal with that.
“But you’ll come home, every time,” Shikadai murmured, imperceptibly shifting closer to Temari. “So I wouldn’t be scared of that and I wouldn’t get nightmares. I don’t get nightmares.”
Oh my god, Shikamaru rolled his eyes. So, so stubborn.
“I never said a word about nightmares, little one,” Temari tapped his nose with a finger. “I just want you to know that whatever you’re feeling is okay.”
“But you’ll come home,” Shikadai repeated insistently. “Always.”
Shikamaru glanced at Temari.
She shook her head. “I can’t promise that, and I won’t lie to you. Sometimes people don’t come home. Sometimes people don’t get happy endings. But,” she said, running a hand through Shikadai’s hair, “I can promise you that I’ll do my best to get home to you after every mission. Okay?”
Finally, Shikadai raised his eyes, but he looked questioningly to Shikamaru.
“Listen to your mom,” Shikamaru said. “She doesn’t go back on her word.”
“So you promise,” Shikadai muttered, giving in to the tension and rolling over to bury his face against Temari’s chest. He continued, words muffled, “That you’ll come home every time? If you can?”
“Yes.” Temari wrapped an arm around him, keeping him close.
“And Dad’ll come home, every time?”
“Every time he can.”
Shikadai cuddled in close for a while, before asking softly, “Do you get nightmares?”
“I used to,” Temari answered.
“How’d you get rid them?”
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, wondering how she was going to handle this one.
“That took a while,” she admitted, and Shikadai lifted his head to stare at her quizzically. “But, I figured out that the things bothering me in my dreams . . . all I had to do was be stronger than the things that scared me. So these monsters you don’t dream about?” She smoothed his hair again. “Fight them. Get stronger. Until nothing in the world can take you down.”
Shikadai nodded. “Okay. So, step one would learning to use shadows?”
“Yes.”
“And then just get stronger?”
“Might help to do well in school and eat your vegetables,” Shikamaru put in.
“And don’t smoke,” Temari added.
Shikamaru rolled his eyes at her. “Also remember to admit when you need help instead of acting like you can take on the world by yourself.”
Temari glared at him over Shikadai’s head. “And don’t be lazy.”
“Keep your temper under wraps,” he added swiftly.
“Do the dishes,” she shot back without hesitation.
“Don’t drink so much when you’re out with your friends.”
“Stop sleeping in so late on the weekends.”
Shikadai sighed. “This seems like a lot to remember. You might need to remind me.”
“Don’t eat all the chocolate in one go,” Shikamaru continued, not listening to Shikadai’s complaint.
“Don’t work so late,” Temari replied.
“Don’t break down my trees when you’re training.”
“Don’t whine every time I go see my brothers.”
Shikadai looked between them. “Not sure this all applies to me . . .”
His query was ignored as Shikamaru sat up, “I don’t whine, I just miss you, and I don’t like when you go away.”
“Because you’re a crybaby,” Temari said. “You can survive a week without me.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Shikadai cleared his throat, finally getting the attention of both parents back on him. “Okay. I get it.” He yawned widely, then began extracting himself from the blankets, only falling over once onto Shikamaru’s spleen.
Shikamaru grimaced, wondering why mornings tended to leave so many bruises. “Where are you going, kid?”
“Back to bed,” Shikadai replied nonchalantly, landing on the floor with a soft thump. “I’m tired. Didn’t sleep a lot last night.”
“’Cause of the nightmares?” Temari asked innocently.
“Don’t get nightmares,” he muttered, glaring at his toes.
Temari sent Shikamaru a look, and he cocked an eyebrow at her, “He is so, so stubborn, and it’s not from my side.”
“You can be just as stubborn,” Temari said flippantly.
Shikadai wandered out the bedroom door, fully intent on taking a nap.
“Shikadai,” Temari’s voice stopped him, and he turned to face her. “Duck.”
Automatically, he dropped his head, and his fluffy white duck sailed over him and landed in the passageway. He straightened up with a grin, “Thanks, Mom!”
“He ducks when I say so,” Temari settled down again as Shikadai grabbed his toy and pattered to his room. “Why don’t you?”
“Shh,” Shikamaru grumbled, burrowing back down into the blankets. “Go back to sleep.”
She rolled her eyes, preparing to throw back the covers and get out of bed. Shikamaru grabbed her before she could, pulling her close.
“You gotta stay,” he said sleepily. “Who else is going to protect me from all the monsters?”
“You’re an idiot.”
“A safe idiot.”
Temari resigned herself to being cuddled. “Five minutes,” she said. “That’s all you get.”
There was, predictably, no response. Shikamaru was already asleep.
Not even ten minutes later, Shikadai returned, blinking sleepily, and wordlessly crawled into bed on her other side. He clutched onto her possessively, and Temari realized she might as well give in to spending the morning in bed.
“Come home safe tomorrow?” Shikadai mumbled, wedged against Temari.
“I will,” she assured. She supposed she didn’t have a choice in the matter.
Someone had to be here to protect her boys.