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“Where are we?"
He raises his eyebrows, angling his face towards the man standing to his right, currently trying to figure out why they’ve been passing the same trees for the past three hours.
“I don’t know, okay?”
His elbows are drawn in, his eyes dark and angry. He’s glaring at the map as if that’d help them in any way. Shikamaru sighs and uncrosses his arms, shaking the hands a little because his fingertips are starting to feel numb.
“Show me.”
Neji doesn’t even look at him, just shoves the crinkly paper the tourist guide gave them in front of them and puts his hands in his pockets. It’s cold. Not winter cold, there’s no snow covering the ground or the dark green woods around them, but still. They’ve been standing here for a whole lot of ten minutes and Neji’s always grown cold fast.
Shikamaru grabs the map, turns it a few times, frowning because it just doesn’t add up. If the path they’re on is the one the lady at the tourist information marked, then that’d mean, there would be a crossroad not too far from here. And that’d mean they would see something alluding to that. A clearing of sorts, but nothing. The forest is as deep and dark as ever and Shikamaru is so done with this.
“What a drag”, he sighs, glancing at Neji for a second, just to see him standing at the edge of the pathway, where the even ground ends, dropping into a steep slope. It’s a nice few, or it would be at least, if it wasn’t for the sun slowly sinking behind the horizon, making the air start to look different, thicker.
It’d been so beautiful this morning when they woke up and headed for breakfast on the terrace of their cabin. The fog, hanging between the branches, low above the meadows, making deer seem like shadows running about. A mystical thing, stunning and worth the early hour. But now? Shikamaru shakes his head, crunching the map between his fingers and walking over to his companion, raising his hand to lay it on a shoulder that looks much slimmer than it actually is.
Neji is a guy of contrasts. His face is even and soft but his eyes are hard and unforgiving. His body is lithe, seemingly slim and weak but once you get acquainted with the muscles hiding under that lean figure, you’re quick to avoid any unintentional outbursts. Right now, though? Neji refuses to look at him, transfixed by the mist crawling nearer by the minute, threatening to envelop them in humid chills and historical madness.
“You know”, he starts, still watching the tendrils looming closer: “My uncle used to tell us stories about the countries he visited for business.”
Shikamaru lets his hand slide lower, over Neji’s arm, down to his wrist, his hand, his long and elegant fingers that have never seen a day of physical labour. He keeps quiet, listening to the man in front of him, shivering now but not moving, not even to lean back into Shikamaru.
So stubborn.
“He told us about witches and fairies. About trolls and mystic creatures, hidden in caves and woods as deep as the world is wide.”
Their fingers interlace and Shikamaru hums in the long hair that’s starting to freeze over. It’s an interesting sight, something that’s not happening often, but a clue as to how humid the air around them already is, how cold it’s going to be when they stay here for longer.
Neji turns around, looking into his eyes, somehow a question in those pale grey eyes that Shikamaru can’t decipher. He squeezes the cold fingers between his own.
“Let’s go”, he murmurs, starts tugging a little bit. It’s getting darker now and Neji nods.
“Yeah.”
They still have no clue, where they are, but once they’re back to trudging along the path, their feet start to heat up again, cold legs rubbing together, clammy in too-tight jeans. They’re not made for this weather.
It’s silent for a while. Or, there’s no talking at least. The forest is not silent at all. In whatever mystery story Shikamaru has ever read or heard, the wood’s always eerily quiet. This one is not. Owls are hooting, something is running through the bushes, rustling old and torn leaves. A fox Is cackling in the distance and when they turn a corner, they’re both startled by a red-coated squirrel bounding across the pathway, climbing up the next best tree in a criss-cross pattern of moves they can hardly follow with their eyes. Well, Shikamaru can’t because it’s too fast and too annoying to keep track of the animal in the rapidly darkening greenery.
“Do you know where we’re going?”, Neji asks, after the squirrel is gone and he’s tightened his grip on Shikamaru’s hand because his fingers are much warmer than his own. Shikamaru stuffs their hands in his jacket and shrugs.
“Not really. According to the map, there’s this crossroad and then we’re supposed to see the village rather soon.”
The adorable sound of twigs snapping in two underneath their feet turns into a scary thing once they need their phones to light the way.
“I hope you’re right”, Neji says, walking much closer to Shikamaru than he normally would, given any other day and they both know it’s not to share body heat. Shikamaru hums again, voice low and purposefully calm.
“What kind of stories did your uncle tell about these parts of the world?”
Neji doesn’t respond for the better part of the next ten minutes and Shikamaru is pondering the idea of wrapping his arm around the man but before he can decide to do just that, Neji takes a deep breath that sounds like it’s been trapped in his lungs for far too long.
“You alright?”
He feels the long hair move more than he can actually see it but Neji doesn’t answer.
“You know, my dad told stories, too. Mostly chess-related, but still.”
He’s rambling now, trying to keep the conversation going, even if it’s just so there’s a voice for the both of them to hear.
“He used to drone on and on about his former friend, the one he met in Europe. The one that’s been crazy good at chess, beating him with the ridiculous ratio of five to two by the time their vacation was over. Mum was pissed. She reprimanded him for ruining her time in a foreign country because of his stupid competitive streak with someone he couldn’t even talk to because they didn’t speak a word of the same language.”
Neji’s snorting softly and that has Shikamaru chuckling, too. It’s such a silly story but the memory is lighter than anything else surrounding them at this point, so he figures it’s their best bet. The phone torchlight is swaying slightly in front of them.
“And can you guess what he answered her? Not even blinking when faced with her fury?”
And his mother’s rage is more than capable of setting something on fire, thank you very much. So that’s impressive.
Neji shifts closer to Shikamaru, their more or less pressed against each other now, making it a bit difficult to walk but neither is batting an eye.
“No. But I assume it’s something stupidly intelligent. Maybe he told her, he doesn’t need to talk as long as his chess pieces are communicating for him?”
Shikamaru nods slowly.
“Almost. He told her, that they do speak the same language. It’s called chess. She had him sleeping on the porch that night. He was lucky it was summer.”
The snort Neji lets out this time sounds kind of choked up.
“Yeah no, I wouldn’t want to sleep on our balcony for the life of me tonight”, he says, lifting his chin in defiance.
Shikamaru shakes his head, ready to tell him he would never have to endure something like this because he’s not like his mother. The one booted out of the bedroom would probably be Shikamaru himself, not Neji, if it came to a situation like this, but he doesn’t get to do so, because there it is.
The crossroad.
And ten minutes later they’re back to civilization, streetlights illuminating the cold autumn air in warm shades of yellow and orange as the two men make their way back to their cabin, fingers still intertwined.
xXx
“You never finished your story”, Shikamaru whispers into the silence of their living room. They're curled up on the couch, Neji tucked into his side, one arm across his torso, his head snuggly under his chin, nose pressed to his throat, so Shikamaru feels it when the other man huffs a breath.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The denial flickers just like the last licks of amber in the fireplace. Shikamaru draws the blanket tighter around them, pressing his lips against the top of Neji’s head. Not quite a kiss, but rather the intimate feeling of warm breath and even warmer skin underneath those smooth dark strands of hair.
“The one your uncle told you about places like this”, he clarifies and Neji sighs, dragging his forefinger in small circles across Shikamaru’s chest, watching him breathe.
“Technically”, he starts, his smirk audible: “I never started to tell it.”
Shikamaru pokes him in the side. Once, twice and Neji gives, falls even more pliant against his chest, grunting and laughing at the same time. That’s a noise Shikamaru has never heard from anyone else and quite frankly, doesn’t want to. It’s his and Neji’s, it’s them.
“Okay, okay. Listen up, Nara. And I warn you. If you fall asleep on me again, I’m never going to tell you a story again. Ever.”
His brow is furrowed and he wants to be angry and stern but all he manages is a soft grin as Shikamaru chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling and vibrating through his chest, already half asleep.
“You’re the worst.”
“You love me.”
"..."
A strategic poke ends the ensuing silence.
“Abusive.”
“Story.”
Neji shuffles against Shikamaru’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of pine and mint.
“Fine.”
Neither of them is getting to the bedroom that night.