Chapter Text
Shikamaru had meant to nap.
He’d picked the spot carefully: beneath the old oak at the edge of Training Ground Three, where the grass stayed cool even in the afternoon and the branches filtered the sun into something tolerable. The cicadas were loud enough to drown out most things. Perfect conditions.
The spot was tried and tested, it had excellent cloud visibility, which is the reason Shikamaru always went with.
He lay back, arms folded under his head, eyes closed.
Then Naruto arrived. The real qualifying factor for this particular spot, Shikamaru’s mind traitorously supplied.
Shikamaru knew the rhythm of his footsteps well enough to recognize them without looking — too fast, slightly uneven, like he was always half a second away from breaking into a run. The sound stopped abruptly, followed by a sharp exhale and the rustle of fabric as Naruto must have dropped his bag.
“Okay,” Naruto said to no one in particular. “Today. Today I get this right.”
Shikamaru kept his eyes closed.
There was a pause. Paper unfurled. Chakra stirred, faint but eager, the air warming around it. And then, inevitably—
“—wait, no, that’s not it. Why does Kakashi always make this look so easy?”
Shikamaru shifted one finger against his palm. Naruto didn’t notice.
He talked while he worked. Always had. Thoughts spilled out of him unfiltered, looping and circling back on themselves, punctuated by sudden laughs or sharp groans of frustration. Shikamaru tracked it all without trying: the cadence of Naruto’s voice, the places where he stumbled, the moments where excitement overrode sense.
A breeze moved through the field.
The scent reached him then — orange peel crushed between fingers, bright and sharp, threaded through with something warmer, heavier. It settled low in his chest before he could stop it.
Shikamaru opened one eye.
Naruto stood in the center of the clearing, sleeves pushed up, hair tied back with a band that had definitely not been tied properly. Strands escaped anyway, catching the light. Sweat darkened the collar of his shirt. His brow was drawn tight in concentration as he adjusted his stance again and again, teeth worrying at his lower lip.
He tried once more. Failed. Groaned.
Shikamaru watched the way Naruto’s shoulders tensed before he exhaled, the way he reset his feet, muttering instructions to himself like a mantra.
“Okay, okay. Control first. Don’t rush it. Don’t—”
“Your left hand’s compensating,” Shikamaru said.
Naruto startled, nearly dropping the scroll. “—oh! You’re awake.”
“I was awake,” Shikamaru said.
Naruto grinned at him, immediate and unguarded, and trotted over without thinking twice. He crouched at Shikamaru’s side, shoving the scroll under his nose.
“Look. Here. It keeps wobbling.”
Naruto shoved the scroll toward him, frustration roughening his voice. He was crouched too close — knee nearly brushing Shikamaru’s, balance tipped forward like he’d forgotten the concept of personal space entirely.
Shikamaru took the scroll with one hand, eyes skimming it in a single pass. The problem was obvious. It usually was.
He tilted his head, considering, then reached out.
His fingers closed gently around Naruto’s wrist, thumb resting just beneath the pulse point. Not tight. Just enough to guide.
Naruto sucked in a sharp breath.
Shikamaru felt it immediately — the hitch, the barely-there tension that rippled through Naruto’s arm before he could stop it. The skin there was warm, sensitive in a way that had nothing to do with muscle or bone. Omega scent glands clustered along the wrists and throat; everyone knew that in the abstract. Most people avoided touching them unless invited.
Shikamaru adjusted his grip without comment, nudging Naruto’s wrist a fraction of an inch inward.
“Relax that,” he said evenly. “You’re forcing it.”
His thumb brushed Naruto’s skin as he withdrew.
Naruto blinked at him, then down at his own hand, like he’d just noticed it belonged to him. A faint flush crept up his neck, oranges spiking sharp and bright for half a second before settling again.
“O—oh,” Naruto said. He shook his hand once, like he was resetting himself, then tried again.
The chakra steadied instantly. No wobble. No strain.
It held.
Naruto stared at it, eyes wide. “Oh! Oh—hey, that felt different.”
“Mm,” Shikamaru said.
He looked away before Naruto could catch his expression.
Because that — that — had been intentional.
Not the correction. The touch.
Shikamaru let his hand drop back to his knee, fingers curling once, slowly, as if committing the sensation to memory. The warmth. The pulse. The way Naruto had reacted without understanding why.
Naruto laughed, loud enough to scatter a few birds from the branches overhead. A little awkward, but unwavering. He didn’t move away right away. Just stayed crouched there, close enough that Shikamaru could feel the heat coming off him.
Naruto talked again, this time about something else entirely — a meeting he’d been dragged into that morning, something his mother had said that he couldn’t decide whether to be proud or annoyed about, a complaint about Kakashi that looped into a story about Iruka and then somehow back to ramen.
Shikamaru answered when spoken to. Sometimes he didn’t. Naruto filled the gaps without noticing.
At some point, Naruto leaned back onto his hands, gaze drifting upward. “Clouds look kinda weird today, huh?”
Shikamaru followed his line of sight. They did. Long and stretched thin, like they were being pulled apart.
“Think it’s gonna rain?” Naruto asked.
“No.”
“Good.” Naruto smiled to himself. “I hate training in the rain. Makes everything feel… heavy.”
Shikamaru watched the sun catch in Naruto’s hair as he tilted his head back. It was too bright. Hurt to look at if you stared too long, but self-preservation really was not one of Shikamaru’s strongest suits.
Nevertheless, he did close his eyes again.
The wind was blowing lightly through the grass, it mixed with Naruto’s scent so perfectly that Shikamaru was getting instantly lulled into peace and security. Or at least that was the case, until the alpha sensed another presence approaching them.
He tried deliberating on whether it was an alpha or omega but turns out, he did not have to because this particular shinobi decided to throw their scent at Naruto. It smelled basic, had not developed very properly and Shikamaru could only register it as embers of a bonfire.
Naruto wrinkled his nose. “Huh.”
Shikamaru sat up.
He didn’t say anything, no matter how much his inner alpha instincts pushed him to challenge, to fight. He just let his presence solidify, slow and steady. Let his scent uncoil enough to matter and cover— cool jasmine, dusk settling in, not loud, not demanding.
The other alpha faltered. Hesitated. Mumbled something that might have been an apology and veered away.
Naruto watched them go, confused. “Weird.”
It was weird, but not new.
Shikamaru shrugged. “You’re distracting.” He did not want to indulge in the topic, or have Naruto try and dissect that alpha’s actions or intentions. So he did what was best, he pivoted.
Naruto laughed. “What? No I’m not.”
“You were mid-rant five seconds ago.”
“That was important,” Naruto said seriously. Then, softer, “Hey. Thanks.”
“For what?”
Naruto gestured vaguely. “For being… here.”
Shikamaru didn’t answer. Naruto didn’t seem to need one.
They stayed like that until the sun dipped low enough to stretch their shadows long across the grass. Naruto packed up eventually, chattering about dinner plans, about how his mom was probably going to ask too many questions again.
“You should come,” he said, casual. “Dad won’t mind.”
“I’ll pass.”
Naruto nodded, unbothered. “Okay. Tomorrow, then?”
Shikamaru watched him walk away, light on his feet, already halfway into another thought.
“Tomorrow,” he agreed, even though Naruto was too far to hear.
He lay back down once Naruto was gone.
The cicadas were louder now, or maybe just the voice that had been drowning them out was now gone. The ground too, felt a little colder.
Sleep didn’t come as easily as it usually does, and when it does come Shikamaru dreams of a blonde omega bathed in sunlight.