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Temari slips from bed and becomes one with the still early morning as though she hadn’t moved.
Despite this, her bedmate stirs, scrunching his face as though he is trying to fight consciousness. Temari is sure that he doesn’t know that he does this, because if he did he would do his best to stop it, even while asleep. Because the fact of the matter is, despite how Temari desperately tries not to use this word, it’s cute.
He gives up quickly and his eyes open, unfocused for only one second and then spotting her. Shikamaru’s eyes are calculating, like the gears in his mind are constantly turning, but not when he’s looking at her like this so early in the morning. Now his eyes are clear, and open, and have something in them that makes Temari want to kiss him.
The thought makes emotion well to the surface of Temari’s chest, unbidden, so instead she turns to her bag and digs for her last clean pair of underwear instead. Her pair from last night are somewhere in the corners of Shikamaru’s bedroom, and she makes a mental note to find them after she showers.
“Seriously?” Shikamaru starts, because a moment not spent complaining in the morning is a moment wasted in his book despite the fact that he let out complaints so rarely at other times of day, “This early? Right now?”
“I have to go back to Suna. It’s been three months now.” The first month it had been understandable to extend her stay, because of the three days between the Hidden Leaf and the Sand. The second month she had made her excuses about diplomacy and peace between nations. The third month, well. Gaara’s letters held no judgement--because of course they didn’t--but Kankuro’s did. And now time has stacked on top of each other and Temari has duties back home, ones that she has been neglecting for. Whatever this is. Whatever she has been doing with Shikamaru, including sleeping in his bed and spending their free time together and staying up late to debate whatever topic had come across the Hokage’s desk that morning.
None of that is a part of any mission that Temari has been a part of, and so, it’s time to go home and face Kankuro’s cackling.
“You don’t have to do shit,” Shikamaru says, but there’s no weight behind the words. If anyone knows something about duty, it is Shikamaru. It’s part of what drew her to him, in the first place.
Temari decides to joke, “I have to go home and get some new clothes, at least.”
Quiet settles between them, and Temari moves around the room, collecting her things. Temari is fine with the quiet--at peace with it, even. She and Shikamaru don’t have to speak, and that is a blessing, because Temari finds that sometimes all people in Konoha want to do is talk, talk, talk. Sometimes she misses the silence in Suna, though not as much as she thought she would, once.
She should have realized, though, that even though Shikamaru isn’t chatty, there’s always something going on in the spaces between the stillness.
“You have clothes in my closet, and my drawers.”
Temari stiffens, even though he’s not saying it with any malice or sarcasm. In fact, he’s almost earnest about it, and that makes it, somehow, worse.
“I know that.” The words come out sharper than intended, more the steel of a blade than anything else. “I can take them home with me. They’ll be good to have on the road.”
“No, that’s not.” Shikamaru groans, sitting up fully as he runs a hand through his coarse hair, loose in the mornings as always. “That’s not what I meant .”
“Then what did you mean? Say it.”
“What I meant was just what I said. You have plenty of clothes here, at my place. And if you don’t like them anymore, well, we have shops in Konoha too. More than you guys in Suna do, probably, since our local economy is more individualized, currently.”
Temari just narrows her eyes at him, unsure of where he’s going with this. But she’s on a knife’s edge, and feels as though she can fall either way. The fact of the matter is that this conversation can get ugly, and bloody, and fast. Temari hates that, the uncertainty of it all, but she can’t deny it, certainly not to herself.
The fact that he’s bringing the economy--the fucking economy of all things--into this probably means that he’s off tether too. This brings Temari no pleasure. Shikamaru is one of the most solid things that she has.
Shikamaru sighs, loudly and violently. “You shouldn’t go back to Suna. You should stay here. For the foreseeable future.”
“Why?”
“Because you want to.”
“So?” Temari crosses her arms over her body, feeling very exposed all of a sudden, even if she is wearing underwear and an undershirt now, too boot. “Wanting something isn’t a reason to do it.”
You of all people should know that , she wants to add, but doesn’t. Temari staying for any longer without an explicit mission is absurd, and they both understand that. Both of them put away childish things long, long ago.
“What if I gave you a reason?”
“What, talk the Hokage into giving me something to do? I am not a ninja of the Leaf. I won’t take a mission from him.” Despite everything, Temari’s loyalty is to Gaara and the Sand first and foremost.
Despite the fact that I’ve been here for months, Temari thinks to herself, the words bitter even inside her own mind. She really does need to go home.
“No.” Shikamaru’s voice is hard enough to match hers now. “I mean, what if you stayed here because it became your home?”
“And how would that happen? I am the Kazekage’s sister, and the previous Kazekage’s daughter. I can’t just leave.” There is sand in her blood, and has been for generations. Suna is older than Konoha, carved into the desert rock an unforgiving fortress as if it had always been there instead of being built by the hands of its people.
When Temari was younger she had daydreamed of other lands, especially when she and Kankuro had been shut up in their rooms alone during one of Gaara’s rages. She had known that she would see them some day, as a ninja of the Sand, but she’d always wanted to get out. Suna was home, Suna was forever, but there had always been a part of Temari that had longed for green.
And she hated being reminded of that when she was in Konoha most of all, because green was all around her. And Shikamaru was here, leaving her feeling as though she herself was flowering in a cool spring.
“Surely it’s acceptable for the Kazekage’s daughter and sister to marry,” Shikamaru hurls at her, still in bed but now coiled, as if waiting to brace for an attack.
They are fighting, Temari realizes distantly. They are fighting about getting married . Despite knowing this, she can’t find it within herself to stop being willfully stupid.
“Married? To who?”
“To me. Who else?”
Temari forces herself to stop being an idiot about this, biting her lip instead. There had been no one else for her, not for years. And the same could be said for Shikamaru too. Temari would know otherwise, because Ino would have slit his throat for it if Temari did not beat her to it.
“It would be a matter to be put forth to the Elders,” Temari tells him, wondering how this even happened. “My marriage, I mean. As a member of my family.”
“Then let’s bring it to them,” Shikamaru says, getting out of bed now. “I’m really good at convincing Village Elders to listen to me. I can argue my case against some old farts in fancy chairs no problem.”
And so instead of leaving the Leaf alone, Temari departed with Shikamaru in tow.
Temari had not sent word that she and Shikamaru were coming together, but Kankuro was waiting for them at Suna’s gates as though she had. He must be the one in charge of the spies and scouts at the edges of the desert. The thought is a shocking one, as that had always been part of Temari’s domain.
But of course, it was better now that the responsibility had been delegated. If everything went well Temari would no longer be able to be in charge of the village guard. And Temari could ask for no one better than her brother to take the reins of this particular duty, because he would put the village first.
Temari takes all this in, realizing how well things must be running without her, and blinked once. Then, “Kankuro, where is Gaara?”
“He should be in the greenhouse right now, if he’s finished his lunch,” Kankuro tells her absently. She turns to look at him and Shikamaru and sees that they are scrutinizing each other silently, both of their faces unreadable but critical.
Honestly. Men .
“I need to speak to him.”
Kankuro finally rips his gaze away from Shikamaru to inspect her too. Temari stands firm. He might intimidate other people with his dark gaze and heavy make up, but Temari has the same dark eyes, and he will always be her little brother. “Will it be a long conversation?” he asks, casually uncasual.
“Hmm. I don’t think so.”
“It’s already been decided,” Shikamaru cuts in, speaking for the first time since they arrived at the village gates.
Kankuro snorts. “That’s what you think.” He turns back to Temari. “Well, you’d better go talk to him, then. The faster this happens, the better.” Kankuro motions towards one of the guards, and gives both Temari and Shikamaru a thoughtful look. “Good luck, to you both, really.” And just like that, in a black blur, he is gone.
They walk through the village, since the greenhouse is near the Kazekage offices so Gaara can be easily accessible. Temari may not understand, but she’s glad that Gaara can find some peace during the middle of days that are no doubt stressful, despite the fact that Gaara has never and would never complain.
Temari waits for Shikamaru to speak, but he doesn’t. Instead, he seems to be taking everything in, from the architecture to the people to the markets that they pass. The air in Suna is full of spices not readily available in the Leaf, and people wear more clothing to protect them from the unrelenting sun.
Shikamaru has never been to Suna, despite the fact that he has been involved in diplomatic relationships at the side of hokages since he was sixteen years old. Temari wonders what he must be thinking--people here are very different from those back in Konoha--but all he does is smile at her and Temari’s stomach settles again.
The greenhouse is obscured by the rest of the buildings, which are built of mud and palm wood, a shining glass marvel. It had been a gift from the Fifth Mizukage after the war had ended. Gaara does not always have time to tend to it, but there are civilians that do for him when he cannot. Still, Temari would recognize the movements of the person inside the glass as her youngest brother anywhere.
“Temari,” Gaara calls when she and Shikamaru come inside, not sounding the least bit surprised. Kankuro must have let him know that they were coming, too. Temari wonders who doesn’t know at this point. “Shikamaru.” He bows towards Shikamaru first, and Temari feels emotion wash over her again. “What have you come for?”
“I think you know,” Temari tells him.
He nods his head, once. “Kankuro will be pleased. There was a betting pool for this outcome, and I believe that his guess was the closest.”
Temari doesn’t need to ask if Gaara bet as well, because of course he hadn’t. At least one of her brothers had manners, even if it wasn’t the one she had raised. “When did that happen?”
“A year or so ago.” Gaara wipes his hand on the cloth at his waist. “Still. I suppose I had better ask. Sister, Shikamaru, why are you here?”
Shikamaru doesn’t let Temari speak first. “I have asked your sister to marry me.”
Gaara nods. “I see. Well, I wish you both the greatest happiness. I know you make Temari very happy, and it will be good to gain another brother.” He smiles, the expression coming across his face like a bright desert sun, and Temari lets out a huge sigh of relief.
This is not the hard part. She knows that. Gaara is not, and has never been, their father. She knows that technically she and Shikamaru could have just gotten married in Konoha three days ago, when Shikamaru had first brought it up. Gaara would have begrudged her nothing, would have allowed her to continue to be called Temari of the Sand if she had so wished it even if she married into another village.
Gaara was no longer cruel, and indifferent, and would never cut Temari off without another word for daring to find happiness somewhere that was not Suna. Despite having a demon inside of him once, Gaara had never been the monster in their family.
But Temari knew that marrying Shikamaru would mean that she would never live in Suna again. And because of this, because Temari loved her home and her brothers, she would go about this the proper way. And first that would mean asking the Kazekage for his permission, although she knew that she did not have to.
“Thank you,” Shikamaru says, his voice tight. Temari turned and looked at him, surrounded by plants and out of place in all the vines, but still obviously fighting so hard. She wanted to reach out for him, and so she did, grabbing his hand. He threaded their fingers together, and in the gentleness of his touch, Temari knew that she had found her forever. He was it for her, and had been back since their Chunnin exams, so long ago.
And she was glad for that.
“Now comes the hard part,” Temari sighs.
The Elders try to tell Gaara that they could not meet with Temari and Shikamaru until the end of the week.
“What?” Shikamaru barks, exasperated. “These assholes. I swear, they’re the same in every village. No matter where you go, it’s always the same.”
Temari nods, sitting on the edge of Shikamaru’s bed. Gaara had given them separate rooms, but it was a thin pretense. Kankuro had outright laughed when he’d seen Temari making her way to the guest quarters of their home.
“Don’t worry. Gaara reminded them, very gently, of who the Kazekage is. And who his family is.”
Shikamaru grumbles, but said nothing else. There really was nothing else that he could say.
“Are you sure you’re ready to go through all this trouble?” Temari asks lightly. After visiting Gaara they had gone to the library, because Shikamaru had wanted to read all that he could about what seeing the Elders would entail, let alone asking them for the hand of their Kazekage’s sister.
The short answer was: lots of bullshit. The long answer, well, Shikamaru had read up.
“I came all the way here, didn’t I?” Shikamaru furrows his brow. “Are you sure you want to go through all the trouble?”
“I brought you all the way here, didn’t I?”
Shikamaru laughs, his face smoothing. Temari reaches out and touched him, which she hadn’t gotten the chance to other than their time in the greenhouse. They had been very proper in public, which should leave them in the good graces of the Elders in some capacity, Temari knew.
But also because they had never been very public people to begin with. Even in Konoha, they did not indulge in public displays of affection. And Temari couldn’t say that she minded. She liked having all of his private glances and touches saved for the two of them, alone, nestled into Shikamaru’s home. And now her own.
Soon to be their home, if everything went well. Which Temari hopes beyond hope is the case.
“Temari, I...”
“Yes?” Temari looks up at him, and sees something on his face that she’s never seen before. She’s not sure what to call it, but it’s almost trepidation.
Shikamaru shakes his head. “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m just thinking about tomorrow. What a drag.”
“Trust me,” Temari says, mouth quirking at the phrase that she hadn’t heard in so long. “I feel the same way.”
Temari has not worn any ceremonial make up since she was a small child and her father had become the Kazekage. That had been before Kankuro had been born or Gaara had even been thought of, and so she has none of the required products at her disposal.
Kankuro is waiting in her bedroom when she comes in early the next morning though to get ready.
He has many shades of purple on her table, and motions for her to come over.
“Nervous?” he asks conversationally, opening up one of the pots he had brought with them. Temari sees that they are made out of traditional clay pots made specially in their village, carved with leaves and vines that would never grow out of the sand naturally, but still admired for their beauty. Every shade is a different purple, proving that they are of the Kazekage’s line.
“About the Elders? No.”
“You should be,” Kankuro says, as if this is not devastating news. “Lord Ginji has decided that he feels it is unsuitable that you should have been ‘torn from our walls’ for so long this last time.”
“This isn’t even the longest I’ve been gone from the village!” Temari protests immediately, pulling away from where Kankuro is marking her eyes with powder.
“I know. But this is the longest it’s been without an excuse that they have approved of first. Now stop moving, you are smearing my hard work.”
“You’re just lucky your canvas is so good to start with,” Temari says, though she does as he asks.
They sit in silence while Kankuro uses his brushes to create trails of colors over her face as befitting the Kazekage’s family. Only Gaara himself, like their father before him, and their grandfather before him, does not wear the stuff. They don’t have to--anyone would know their status as a kage just by looking at them.
Then, “Do you really think it looks bad for us?”
Kankuro sighs, then nods. “They try not to show their displeasure to Gaara too often, but they are pissed. If you waited a while...”
“I don’t want to wait.” Temari knows that much in her bones. Now that this is offered, she wants to grab it with both hands. She is fine with what she and Shikamaru have had over the past few years--snatches of time spent together, a month or so, but now that she has the promise of more she is loath to give it up.
It will be an adjustment for sure, but Temari is sure that they can handle it.
“We aren’t waiting. We’ve waited long enough,” she hears from the door, and turns to see Shikamaru standing at the doorframe. He steps back, shocked, when he sees all of her, the makeup, the outfit. Her hair is the only thing that remains the same, because she has always worn her hair in a traditional style of the Sand. “Temari...” he trails off.
“Too much?” The makeup is bold, and striking, in a way that Temari would never wear on her own. Temari enjoys dressing up when she is in Konoha and going on dates with Shikamaru, but that is nothing compared to the full regalia that she is wearing now. There is a reason she does not wear anything like these blue and purple and green silks regularly, and why Kankuro himself always dresses in all black. It is, indeed, a bit much.
Shikamaru shakes his head, still a bit dazed. “Nah.”
Kankuro makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “You’re lucky that I was done anyway, otherwise you’d look terrible.” He hesitates, and then, “Really, though. Good luck.”
“That’s the second time you’ve told us that, I’m almost nervous,” Shikamaru drawls.
“You should be. The council will not want to lose Temari.”
“Well I don’t want to lose her either.” The phrase So tough shit is not one that Shikamaru utters, but it’s implied.
Temari doesn’t think that it can be summed up much better than that.
Despite the fact that the Elders had tried to put them off until the end of the week, they still agree to meet Temari and Shikamaru in the Elder’s chambers. Temari watches as Shikamaru looks around, analyzing every bit of the white sandstone the rooms were carved from.
Shikamaru is wearing something that is hardly better than his everyday clothes. After much deliberation, Kankuro and Temari had decided that it would probably be better to let him wear clothes that made him look more like a ninja of the Hidden Leaf. This was all unbeknownst to him of course--Shikamaru probably would have insisted on wearing his own clothes anyway.
Gaara was sitting to the right of the council of Elders in his full kage dress--a sign of respect for both Temari and Shikamaru. Temari silently sent her youngest brother a thank you for showing the Elders just how seriously he took her and Shikamaru’s request.
“So, Temari of the Sand,” Lord Ginji starts, “you stand before us with a request?”
Temari raises from her bow, Shikamaru hesitating and then doing the same beside her. They will bow because it is custom and tradition, but they will not show weakness or fragility before these people. They are the newest crop of elders, as the ones Temari had known as a child are all gone now, and they seem to feel as though they are something to prove.
Well, Temari has no clan name. She is simply of the Sand, and her family had founded this village, and she will not let them cow her. Suddenly the markings on her face and her heavy robes help make her stand taller.
“Yes, I would like to get married.”
Lord Ginji puts on a mask of feigned ignorance, and it takes so much of Temari’s self control to not reach out and strike him for it. “Oh, and to who? I’m sure it must be a great match.”
The way the council ignores and disrespects Shikamaru, who is standing right there , ignites Temari’s anger, but she does her best to not let that show. “To Nara Shikamaru, from the Village of the Hidden Leaf.”
That causes soft murmurs to erupt from the other Elders.
“From the Leaf?” one woman says, making the statement sound more like a question. As though they didn’t know where Temari had been all this time, or where she had been visiting for years.
Now Shikamaru speaks, “Yes. I am the Hokage’s Right Hand, and head of the Nara Clan, and it is an equal match for Temari.”
Lord Ginji raises an eyebrow. “Is it? Your clan is not of any particular importance. Now if it was a Hyuuga or a Uchiha standing here before us, perhaps, but...you are not from either of those esteemed lines.”
Shikamaru swallows, and for the first time Temari feels his nervousness. He’s scared, she realizes, and that makes her more angry than anything else. Still, she lets him speak his peace. It is important for him to do so, and besides that Temari knows Shikamaru well enough to understand that Shikamaru will want to do this on his own terms, as much as he can.
“No, I am not a Uchiha or a Hyuuga, but we are guardians of the deer of the Village of the Hidden Leaf, and my father served the Hokages before me.”
“Proximity to power is not power,” Lord Ginji says, and Temari realizes then that this is one argument that Shikamaru is not going to be able to use his intellect to get out of. The facts are these: the Nara Clan, well respected in the Leaf Village, is of no particular importance to the Sand, because their power is hidden more than displayed on the battlefield. And there is nothing the Sand village respects more than brute strength.
“Temari marrying me would benefit the diplomatic ties between the Leaf and the Sand,” Shikamaru tries a new tactic.
The same woman that spoke earlier speaks again. “Bah, diplomatic ties. Politics, all of it. And so what?”
“The world could use strengthening of diplomatic ties, always,” Temari cuts in, before she could help herself. She had known that this would be a hard sell, but she can tell that the Elders are going to shut down any and everything that Shikamaru is going to say, because it is going to come from Shikamaru.
Clearly, this is Temari’s fight, and she will win. Because this is everything.
“The Sand cannot afford another war, not in money nor in manpower. Peace is a good thing. And if you have me in the Hidden Leaf, then it will always be insured. There will always be parts of me in Suna, and I will come back regularly, but there is no harm in me marrying into a respected clan of a neighboring village. Especially not one where we already have strong ties.”
“Ah, you say it yourself. We already have strong ties with the Leaf. What good would you marrying there do us? Now perhaps if you were wanting to marry someone from the Mist, or the Water-”
“No, I will not do that.” Temari shuts that down absolutely and utterly. She is aware that she is yelling now, but she doesn’t care. “I will not marry where this council wants me to. We are asking as a courtesy, and making you aware of the benefits that this marriage can bring my village, because I will always love the Sand. It has built me into the person that I am, and I have spilled more blood on behalf of the village than can be recorded in these halls. But I love Shikamaru, and I will marry him. And on top of everything else, you will always have a ninja of the Sand in the Hidden Leaf, and that should be more than enough even for the Elder Council of Suna.”
Gaara, who had been watching over these proceedings silently, smiles at Temari before clearing his face of all emotion. “Well. It seems as though my sister has made herself very clear. I don’t think there is any reason to stop two people in love, no matter who they might be related to or what clan they come from.”
At Gaara’s use of the word love , Temari realizes what she has said. She had been so impassioned that she hadn’t realized that this is the first time that she has ever said out loud that she loved Shikamaru, and certainly the first time that she had ever said it in his hearing.
Now she dares to glance at him and sees that he is as red as she feels right now, embarrassment overtaking all the righteous anger in her body.
“I have to agree,” says the frailest looking member of the Elder’s Council, but upon further inspection Temari sees that her eyes are bright. “Temari of the Sand, this Elder says that you may marry.”
There is silence in the chamber, and then the other Elders acquiesce one by one. And then, finally, Lord Ginji realizes that he cannot win when there is so much other support, and announces, “Yes, I give my permission. This Elder says that Temari may marry into the Nara Clan of the Hidden Leaf.”
And it is alight with victory that Shikamaru and Temari leave the Elder’s Council.
“So,” Shikamaru says, once Temari has introduced him to her favorite street food vendor in front of the council chambers. “You love me?”
“I’m marrying you,” Temari tells him. “As soon as we get back to the Hidden Leaf, because we can’t afford to wait considering how begrudging the Sand Elders were about this.”
“You don’t want to marry here?”
“Gaara and Kankuro will be coming with us when we leave, and they are the ones that are the most important to me, so,” Temari shrugs, “not really. It’s not about the marriage so much as it’s about you, anyway.”
Shikamaru nods. “That’s true.”
“So what about you?”
“What about me?”
Temari can feel her face heating up, hating so much how her body reacts when coming face to face with romantic feelings. Before Shikamaru, she hadn’t had much--if any--experience with this kind of thing. Everything had felt brand new to her, who prided herself so much on her hard work and practice. But there was not practicing feelings, and Shikamaru was it for her, and so she finds herself flustered more often than not when romance is thrown into the occasion.
But luckily for her, Shikamaru is the same way, and his face grows hot as well the longer that Temari stares at him. She might be marrying Shikamaru, but she will never be helping his life become any easier.
“I love you too,” he says finally. “Always have.”
He has to give her credit, because Temari only laughs a little while before giving him another beef kabob to eat on instead.
“You look amazing in this, by the way,” he says, reaching up to touch her face. The edge of his thumb rubs across her eye where she knows the paint is, and it’s so tender and perfect that Temari makes a face.
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Wasn’t planning to,” Shikamaru says, moving closer. “I just wanted to let you know that, too.”
“Well, I know.” And with that she leans in kisses Shikamaru under the bright desert sun.
Gaara and Kankuro are waiting for them at the village’s gate the next day. Gaara can’t be gone that long, and Temari had felt guilty even thinking about asking, but he’d offered to be there before she even could.
Temari loves Gaara so much for putting her above the village this one time, but he assures her that the village will be fine without himself and Kankuro.
“Besides, we can make the three day trip turn into one,” Kankuro had said when she’d brought it up the night after the council meeting.
Saying goodbye to Suna--because for the first time she truly doesn’t know when she’s going to come back--is harder than Temari could have ever thought. Suna, cruel and unforgiving as it may be, had raised her and her brothers. It had shaped them into who they were.
But it had also given her cause to meet Shikamaru, and to seek green. And for that, she thinks she has to thank it even more.
“You sure you want to marry me?” Shikamaru asks, at the start of their jog. They were probably going to make it across the desert by the time the sun was high in the sky at the pace they were going, and they all needed to prepare.
“I’m going back with you, aren’t I?” Temari asked, and then the earth was wide before them.