Chapter Text
Shikamaru woke to his bedroom door sliding open. Quietly, as if they didn't want anyone else to hear. He lay still, not letting the person know he was awake. A kidnapper? They'd be pretty dumb to bring the wrath of the Nara, Akimichi, and Yamanaka clans down on them.
Then he smelled cigarettes and sweat and blood, and instantly knew who it was as they trudged towards him. He sat up, squinting to see the shape of Asuma in the lowlight.
“Asuma, what-”
The man practically collapses on Shikamaru, pulling him close without a word or sound. He shook slightly, taking deep breaths. His grip was almost painful, but Shikamaru kept still.
“Are you okay?”
Asuma still didn't answer, burying his face in the boy's neck and inhaling his scent and warmth. They sat like that for a long while, Shikamaru in Asuma’s lap, the fabric of his vest rough against his skin while the man clung to him. All Shikamaru knew was that Asuma had been out on an S-rank mission with others and was expected back yesterday. He had no idea what could've happened to make Asuma like this.
Bit by bit, his trembling stopped and he relaxed. His hold on Shikamaru eased enough for him to move his arms. He reached up, behind Asuma’s head and untied his headband, letting the knot slide apart and fall to the floor. Then he reached for the top of his vest and pulled down the zipper, trying to push it off his shoulders, but Asuma refused to budge.
“Come on,” Shikamaru chided. “That can't be comfortable.”
Asuma pulled back, and their eyes met. He looked tired more than anything, and defeated. It almost made Shikamaru flinch. Asuma let him take off his vest, wrapping Shikamaru back up in his arms the moment it was on the floor.
Shikamaru ran his fingers along the back of his head, through the sweat-damp strands of his hair.
Shikamaru leaned back so Asuma would lay down. He was heavy, but the weight was comfortable. His broad hands slipped under Shikamaru's shirt, and the boy tensed. Was this what Asuma came here for?
His fingers trailed up Shikamaru's stomach and chest, up to his racing heart and over- oh. Shikamaru felt him trace the shape of his own name on his skin and sigh deeply when he got to the final stroke of マ. He rolled off of Shikamaru, laying on his side but keeping his hand over his chest. The distance stretched the fabric so Shikamaru took his sleepshirt off.
Asuma’s eyes instantly went to the black ink over his pale skin. He retraced his name, over and over until Shikamaru had to wonder what it felt like. He put his hand over Asuma’s heart, over where he had only seen his own name, his own claim over the man, once. Asuma easily took off his own top, and Shikamaru let out a soft breath.
He knew Asuma was pretty much all muscle, but it was very different seeing it like this. His skin was hot to the touch. Shikamaru found his name, pitch black in his lazy, sometimes unintelligible, handwriting. He poked the dots of シ and slid his finger down along his quick light final stroke. Asuma let him, watching his curious face map out his soulmark.
When he got to the end, Asuma caught his hand as it was withdrawing and brought it up to kiss his knuckles.
Shikamaru blushed bright red. They almost never had physical contact like this outside of training. Shikamaru wasn't old enough to crave it, and Asuma never pushed. His fingers trembled against the man's lips, feeling the pressure all along his arm to his spine.
“Are you going to stay?”
Asuma released his hand, speaking for the first time that night. “Yeah.”
Shikamaru moved closer, letting Asuma pull him into his arms again. He didn't like sentimental things, usually.
“I missed you,” he muttered into his chest.
“I missed you too,” Asuma whispered back.
Shikamaru woke up alone in the morning. A good thing, as his mother came in a few moments later, telling him it was time for breakfast. The space beside him was still warm but all of Asuma’s things were gone. He rolled over and felt something hard press into his back. Asuma’s headband. It was pretty worn from years of wear. There were a few minor scratches on the metal plate and frays along the seams. Shikamaru would have to give it back eventually, but he just let himself admire it for now.