Chapter Text
Sakura offered him a sincere smile this time as he slunk into Temari’s room, looking haunted.
“Right now,” Sakura said, “It’s mostly a wait and hope game.”
Waiting he was good at. Hoping, not so much.
“She made it through the critical period,” Sakura reminded him. “So things are looking better.”
He just nodded blankly, staring at Temari. She looked a bit better. Not quite as pale, but still so . . . peaceful. Unmoving.
Things that she should never be.
When Sakura left, Shikamaru sank down into the chair next to Temari’s bed, and just stared at her. There was an agonizing numbness spreading through his body, the result of days of gnawing panic, and possibly subsisting on nothing but coffee and cigarettes. He mentally added that to the list of things she had to shout at him for.
“Four,” he said eventually. “Four mugs. How long are you going to do this to me?”
There was, predictably, no response.
“You’ve swooped in and saved me so many times before. I need you to do it again. One more time. I need you to come to my rescue, because I’m drowning here without you. There’s no plan for a life without you in it. I’m trying to be patient, but after living with you for so long you’ve rubbed off on me, and I just want you right here, and right now.”
He sighed, slumping in his seat. “Any time, Princess.”
He fell into silence then, trying to convince himself things would be okay. She made it this far, he reminded himself. The risk of death was lowered. Not gone, but lowered, and the constant knot in his stomach softened a fraction. He could almost believe everything would be fine.
She could be home soon. Life could continue.
The morning ticked on, and Shikamaru lapsed into deep thought. After a while, he closed his eyes, feeling the stress of the last few days starting to weigh on him. He hadn’t slept properly. He was barely functioning. It wasn’t particularly comfortable in the chair, but he had slept in worse places, and so he settled down as best he could, trying to shift into a position that wouldn’t cause horrible neck pain.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been before something prompted him awake. He didn’t open his eyes, but paid attention to the room. Nothing had audibly changed, and he was about to drift off again, thinking he had woken for nothing.
“Is Shikadai okay?” The question was weak and tremulous, and the most beautiful sound Shikamaru had heard in a long time.
He shot to his feet, heart leaping. “Tem? Babe? Oh, thank god,” he managed to not start crying on the spot – score one for whatever was left of his dignity – and instead hovered over her, looking searchingly at her face.
Her eyes were half open, missing the usual fire brightness he loved to stare at, but she looked clearly at him.
“Shikadai’s fine,” he said, practically vibrating with emotion. “He’s fine, I promise, he wasn’t hurt. You kept him safe. Fuck, you scared me half to death.”
Gently, he smoothed back her hair, trying to remember to breathe. “Tem, love, darling, I’m so glad you’re awake.”
“Have you,” Temari paused, closing her eyes for a moment, drawing in a difficult breath. She tried again, “Have you been here moping the entire time?”
Yes. Yes, definitely, of course, anything that would get her to scold him and berate him and tell him he was a needy idiot. “Kinda, yeah.”
She opened her eyes to look at him, and he was caught in her gaze, knees going absolutely weak because he could finally look at her, and she was looking back at him. He had spent his life surrounded by forests, and his favourite one was the one trapped in her eyes.
He swallowed back tears. “How . . . how are you feeling?”
“Like someone snapped my chest open.”
“They did.”
“That explains it.” She breathed carefully again. “. . . How long’s it been?”
“Four days.”
“Ugh,” she grimaced. “Been a while since I’ve taken an injury like that.”
“Don’t make a habit of it.” He leaned down to press a very light kiss to her forehead. He whispered again, “I’m so glad you’re awake.”
They had a few more minutes of peace, wherein Shikamaru just stayed where he was with his nose pressed into her hair and trying not to pass out from sheer relief, before Sakura appeared in the doorway with a wide smile. “I thought I heard more than one voice in here.”
Shikamaru moved aside so Sakura could check Temari over, and assure Shikamaru that everything seemed normal, and their critical period was likely over and it was just a matter of time to recover. Shikamaru barely heard a word of it; he was too busy staring at Temari.
Once Sakura left, Shikamaru climbed onto the bed next to her, on her good side, unable to stand being apart for any longer. Temari was perfectly happy to snuggle into the warmth of his side, and they sat together in silence. Shikamaru was weak with relief that she was awake and talking, and didn’t think he would be able to stand up anyway, so sitting right against her seemed like a good plan.
“You okay?” he murmured, after a few minutes.
“Everything hurts, but I guess that’s to be expected.”
He entwined their fingers, ecstatic to have her finally grip him in return, and no longer be limp and unresponsive.
“I used your mug this morning,” he said, casually, grasping for something normal.
“Did you clean it?”
“No,” Shikamaru looked at her, smiling broadly. “I left it for you to clean when you got home.”
“You’re an ass, and such a dork.”
He tipped his head, resting it against hers. She closed her eyes, leaning a bit more heavily into him. He felt peaceful, for the first time in days, almost knocked over by the sense of calm. He turned his head so his nose was buried in her hair, breathing her in.
“I love you,” he murmured, barely louder than a breath, but he just needed to get it out.
She didn’t say anything in reply, but he felt her shift her shoulder ever so slightly to let him know that he had been heard.
“Do you need to sleep?” he asked.
“No, I’m awake. I’m fine.”
Shikamaru let the silence linger around them again, until his attention was caught by movement outside. Carefully, Shikadai peered around the door. Shikamaru nudged Temari to get her attention, and she blinked tiredly before locking her eyes onto the door.
“Mom?” Shikadai’s voice trembled. He gripped the doorframe with tense fingers.
“Hey, kid,” Temari said warmly.
Shikadai took a few cautious steps into the room. “. . . Are you okay?”
“Better than you, apparently,” Temari frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Shikadai’s expression crumpled a bit. “Just . . . My fault you almost died . . .”
“Not your fault,” Temari assured, gently beckoning him closer. “And I wouldn’t change what happened, either. If one of us had to take a hit, I’d rather they missed you and got me.”
Shikadai crept to her side, and Temari gently elbowed Shikamaru. He took the hint, getting off the bed so Shikadai could clamber up on her good side and bury his face against her shoulder. Temari wrapped an arm around him, and sent Shikamaru a soft look.
He let out an audible sigh of relief, and Shikadai remained firmly stuck against Temari.
Temari studied Shikamaru closely, and asked cheekily, “Did you cry?”
She was teasing, but he answered honestly, “I fell apart.”
Shikadai nuzzled a bit harder against her, and Temari had the sneaking suspicion he was saying the exact same thing.
“Couldn’t function without you,” Shikamaru admitted. “Couldn’t do a damn thing. I just waited. Just . . . waited for you to come back to me . . .” He shook his head slowly. “Never do that to me again. I can’t do that again.”
Temari flicked her eyes down to Shikadai, before looking at Shikamaru again, saying firmly, “I’ll do whatever I need to if it means protecting him.”
“I know.” Shikamaru sighed. “But maybe . . . maybe tone down the drama a bit? I’m getting too old for this.”
She smiled at him. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”
“I’m quite happy where I am, thank you,” Shikamaru ran a hand through her hair again, needing to touch her, needing to reassure himself that she was there, and okay, and he didn’t have to worry himself sick anymore.
“I haven’t been that scared in a long time,” he admitted softly. “And I didn’t have you there to help me.”
Temari leant into his hand. “I’m here now.”
“Told you she’d be fine,” Kankuro muttered, but he sounded gentle and quietly pleased, and Shikamaru smiled at the phone as he clicked his sixth coffee mug into place on the table, completing the long row.
“She’s coming home today,” he said, sounding happier than he had in a week.
“Isn’t it rather soon?” Gaara was a bit muffled, as Shikamaru imagined he was wedged against Kankuro’s side to hear what Shikamaru was saying.
“Yeah, but she doesn’t like being at the hospital, and she’ll be happier resting at home.” And he would be happier with her at home. He would be anchored and sane knowing she was with him again. All he needed was to have her sleeping beside him, and her voice in the house, and her laughter at whatever he was doing, and her gently reprimanding Shikadai for the way he kept blaming himself for everything that had happened.
“Okay, well,” Kankuro cleared his throat. “Let us know how she is this evening.”
“I will,” he assured, before switching the phone off, throwing it aside without a care, and making his way to the hospital, feeling free and light.
Shikadai was already there, curled against Temari’s side once more, and Shikamaru stopped before entering the room, wondering what they were talking about.
“Say it again,” Temari said, and Shikamaru heard Shikadai heave a sigh before mumbling, “It wasn’t my fault.”
“Do you believe it yet?”
“Maybe . . .” Shikadai’s voice trailed off at the end.
Quietly, to himself, Shikamaru whispered, “It wasn’t your fault.”
Temari’s tone was stern. “Shikadai. Move on.”
“But-“
“Say ‘but’ again, and I’ll kick yours.”
Shikamaru bit back a chuckle.
“Did you attack your team and start a fight?” Temari continued.
Shikadai replied, “No, but-“
“Did you stand around doing nothing when they attacked, instead of fighting as hard as you could and as well as you could?”
“No, but-“
“Did you make the conscious decision to get in the way of a strong attack?”
“No,” he murmured.
“Right. Not your fault, kid.”
“But you got hurt.”
“Yeah,” Temari sounded relaxed about that. “Rather me than you.”
“Rather neither of you,” Shikamaru said, entering the room.
Shikadai moved hastily off the bed, not wanting to be caught snuggling his mother. It would be a bruise to the ego for sure, and Shikamaru bit back a smile at the thought. He pointedly did not single Shikadai out for teasing, though, and instead looked at Temari. “Ready to go home?”
“Definitely,” she nodded.
“Can you walk, or do you need me to carry you?”
She scoffed. “It’s not a leg injury, Shikamaru. I can walk.”
“You blew up half a lung.”
“That’s why I have two.”
He sighed, but fondly. That was his feisty, snappy, firecracker princess right there.
She was going to be fine.
“You okay?” Shikamaru asked, passing Shikadai on his way to bed.
“Yeah,” Shikadai shrugged. “I’m fine. I’ll . . . I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sorry, by the way,” Shikamaru said, and Shikadai stopped walking. “I . . . didn’t exactly handle your mom being in the hospital in a particularly healthy way.”
“S’okay,” Shikadai replied. He stared at the floor, face set in a frown. Eventually, he murmured, “I won’t let something like this happen again.”
Shikamaru patted him reassuringly on the shoulder, unsure of what to say. He was achingly proud of Shikadai’s newfound determination, but not one to give out false comfort, and there was no way to know how the future played out. But whatever happened, Shikadai was going to prepare for it.
Shikamaru was pleased with that, and gave Shikadai’s shoulder a last affectionate squeeze before letting go and watching the boy head off to his room.
“Still awake?” Shikamaru asked, on entering his and Temari’s bedroom.
Temari made a murmuring noise, which Shikamaru assumed was a vague attempt at ‘yes’. She was situated on their bed, having finally found a comfortable position to lie in.
“Need anything?”
She shook her head slowly, not opening her eyes.
“Feeling okay?”
“Stop hovering,” she muttered. “I just need to sleep.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Any pain?”
“Shikamaru,” she sighed. “The amount of painkillers in my system right now means I’m not feeling anything. Either shut up, or change the subject.”
Carefully, watching her for any signs of discomfort, he climbed onto the bed next to her. Gently, he pressed a kiss to her hair. “Glad to have you home.”
“Hm.”
“Just promise me you won’t go into the kitchen,” Shikamaru said. He snuggled up as close as he could. “You can see my slow descent into madness on the kitchen table.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry. Go to sleep.” He thought for a moment, then added, “Although, if you want tea in the morning, I may need to do the dishes first . . .”
She didn’t question him further, and he occupied himself with laying gentle kisses on her hair and forehead. He was still marveling at her return home. He felt like he had a second chance, he had her to himself all over again.
“Tem?” he murmured between kisses, voice soft, in case she was asleep.
“Hm?”
“I love you.”
A slow smile curled her lips. She didn’t open her eyes, but mumbled back, “Love you too, crybaby.”
“Everyone tried to tell me you’d be fine, and I didn’t believe them. Only you,” he added, laying a hand softly on her stomach, since he couldn’t wrap his arm around her and pull her close. “You’re the only one I can believe. You’re all that matters. So if you can, if you’re not asleep, just let me know everything’s going to be fine . . . Just tell me you’re too tough for the world to bring down, and nothing can take you away from me.” He kissed her hair again, “Tell me that.”
For a while, she was silent, and Shikamaru thought maybe she had been knocked out by whatever manner of drugs Sakura had sent them home with. But then she laid her hand over his, took in as deep a breath as she could manage, and told him, “It’ll all be alright.”
Shikamaru got up early the next morning to wash six mugs.