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Since the discovery of Naruto’s unexpected designation and the realization that he would like nothing more than to marry their scents together, Shikamaru has had one very sobering conversation with his father, and several troublesome ones with his mother. It was only through the combined efforts between him and his father that he was able to convince his omega mother from meddling.
“If Shikamaru wants to court the Uzumaki boy, let him do it,” Shikaku had said to his wife and mate over lunch, “the boy has his pride, too.”
Shikamaru’s mother seemed like she wanted to say more, but finally relented as she turned to her son.
“And you’re sure he’s the one?”
“Yes,” Shikamaru sighed for what felt like the nth time. He leaned back in his seat as his eyes rolled back for a brief second before he hunched back over the table. It was a lot: the Nara Fixation, and the revelation about Naruto.
Still, Shikamaru liked Naruto a lot. They had been friends first, and after the shock of it all had worn off, he wasn’t surprised that he also liked Naruto’s scent as much as he did. (He knew he was down playing it, but his father was right: he did have his pride, and he wasn’t about to admit to his mother of all people that he had been slobbering like a dog in the middle of Ino’s room, damnit.)
Despite his mild demeanor, his alpha still bristled at his choices being questioned.
“He’s not exactly the quintessential omega,” Yoshino noted in between bites. Her tone implied more observation than critique, and something in Shikamaru grumbled but did not bare its teeth.
“Then again, maybe Naruto is exactly what your lazy self needs. He’ll definitely put some pep in your step.” He didn’t bother correcting her that Naruto was just as content to cloud gaze with him in a field as he was at needling Shikamaru into helping him with ninjutsu—and more lately fuinjutsu—practice. (Though Shikamaru was unsure what exactly he brought to the table with the latter.)
He sighed and slipped a bit of leafy greens into his mouth.
“I’ll figure it out,” he said, hoping that it was enough to placate his mother—and to buy himself some breathing room so he can get his head on straight. So troublesome, his eyes said when they met his father’s, a touch accusatory.
She’s your mother, came the silent response.
In the end, Shikamaru made a questionable choice and consulted his best friend on the matter.
No—not Naruto—and not Chōji, though the general conversation about his intentions went well.
(“I want to court Naruto.”
“Okay. I want to eat hotpot.”
So, they got hotpot and talked about it some more over lunch.)
Instead, Shikamaru approached Ino about the matter. A decision he started to regret when the blonde had exploded into a wretched cackle right in his face.
“Now you’re just being rude,” he grumbled as the Yamanaka girl started to choke on her own laughter with great heaves of breath. “I’m asking you for advice, you troublesome witch.”
Eventually, when Ino caught her breath and regained her composure, she simply told him to tell Naruto.
“Just be up front about it. He might not believe you at first, but that’s when you have to put in the work to back it up. You’re a serious guy, Shika, and he’s always liked you.” Despite her initial reaction, there was a softness to her pale eyes, and something settled within Shikamaru.
Ino has always been part of his pack, and now that he knew that in a way she was Naruto’s pack too, her look felt like approval; one that he didn’t know he had wanted until he had received it.
So, he asked Naruto if he wanted to get some ramen with him one afternoon when both happened to be free. (“My treat.”)
He quietly mourned the loss of Naruto’s natural scent when they met at the park—the memory of something sticky-sweet lingering in the back of his mouth—and gave a brief baleful glance to the troublesome patch peeking out from under the jinchuriki’s shirt collar. The moment passed, however, as Naruto launched into a tale about the latest Team 7 gossip and shenanigans.
The walk to the ramen place was brief, and the scent of warm miso-based broth was like a beacon to the pair. They ducked into the stall—Naruto first before Shikamaru followed—only for something to unravel a little when the chunin watched the way Naruto’s eyes visibly brightened.
Teuchi and his daughter, Ayame, offered their usual warm and friendly greetings as both listed off their orders. Conversation resumed as usual after they had settled in their seats with Naruto doing the brunt of the talking with the occasional comments from Teuchi and Ayame as they prepared the noodles and toppings.
It wasn’t until after their rather satisfying lunch that Shikamaru brought up his desire to court Naruto.
“Why?”
The question had caught the tall alpha by surprise. Of all the ways he had expected Naruto to respond, a ’why’ had not been it.
“Well, why not?” he countered, unsure what he was supposed to say here.
“You left pretty quickly that day at Ino’s.”
The way Naruto’s eyes narrowed spoke more of suspicion than aggression. The way his blue eyes searched Shikamaru’s face left the alpha feeling a little unmoored in the moment.
“That—“ the alpha fumbled, not having expected an interrogation. “That doesn’t mean I’m not interested.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re interested, either,” Naruto countered easily.
Was there a catch to this troublesome family curse or something? A secret part two that someone had forgotten to mention to Shikamaru? Because this was starting to feel a lot like a regular Tuesday morning conversation with his own mother (—and wasn’t that a frightening thought?).
His ears and the back of his neck burned with embarrassment with the mortifying confession that tumbled out of his mouth, wholly unbid and painfully earnest:
“Naruto—I used to not even like oranges until that day—and now it feels like I can’t get enough of them.”
Oranges.
Orange juice.
Orange candy.
It was becoming quite troublesome—having oranges on the brain all the time. A paltry substitute for Naruto’s scent.
Candied oranges and sweet cream.
Shikamaru watched with morbid fascination as something warm, red and quite lovely spread across Naruto’s whiskered cheeks as the full weight of his confession finally sank.
“… oh.”
“I don’t want you to think it’s just about your scent either,” he continued now that the proverbial dam had broken, “you’re incredibly clever—more than people give you credit for—you’re driven, and you’re loyal; and I meant what I said about standing at your side as your right-hand man. That’s not going to change regardless of what you decide. I’m just hoping for the privilege of standing at your side as your mate, too.”
“You’re… really serious—about courting me?”
“Yes,” Shikamaru said, a touch exasperated but determined enough to reassure Naruto all the same. “If you’ll give me the chance, that is. I’m not here to pressure you or anything.”
“And if I said ‘no’—you’d just walk away?”
The alpha grimaced at the hypothetical before his expression turned solemn. Shikamaru nodded.
“Yeah, I would.”
Of course it was more complicated than that—but it would be for the Nara heir to figure out, not Naruto.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“You can, um, court me.”
“I—okay—yeah.”
And so: they opened up a new dialogue between them.