Give me your hand.
Heartfelt writings by @nixscriptum
The deer grazed peacefully at the small grassy clearing in the Nara clan forest. The sun barely sank below the forest silhouette, slowly cooling the air as heat dissipated.
Deer duties done for the day.
Shikamaru let out a huge groan as he collapsed onto a thick carpet of overgrown greens. Then another steady thud followed as the weight of her body settled on the gap between his arm and chest. Both flat over the surface and shaded by the sparse tree branches studded with white tabebuia blossoms as they watched the sky.
Today’s clouds were wispy and fluffy like cotton candy.
A bunch of blonde ponytails shuffled, so that they fit cozily over his shoulder crease.
“Temari.”
“Hm?”
“Give me your hand,” Shikamaru quipped, “I will tell you your future.”
She glanced to give him a sinister look. “Since when the smart strategist turned to fortune-telling?”
“Why not. A new job would be fun and refreshing,” he joked. His hand grasped hers and brought it up, blocking their sky view.
“Here,” he pressed on a short line, “This small crease means you will laugh at my worst jokes.”
“All of your jokes make me furious,” she replied, unimpressed. Shikamaru stifled, clearing his throat.
“This one,” his fingertips drew a longer line, “Means you’ll forgive me when I burn dinner.”
Clicking her tessen beside her, she threatened, “My storm will blow you to Suna if you do.” His eyebrows furrowed, making a mental note, “Uh yeah. That’s… troublesome.”
Continuing, “Now, this one,” he tapped on her palm. Temari lifted her head to look closer, “What? Where?”
“No, no, don't look too closely,” Shikamaru giggled as he nudged her head down onto the grass by the forehead, only to be counter attacked and wrestled down by Temari, a forearm wedged firm onto his throat.
He coughed, voice ruffled by the force, “This one means you’ll stay forever.”
“Pffft,” Temari laughed out hard, falling back to her original spot.
“I know, I know,” he simpered, “I have no gift for prophecy.”
“But...”
Shikamaru gently reached back for her hand, encircled and kissed each scar on her calloused palm—the proof of the battering intensity of her training. His fingers interlocked with hers, drawing her hand close to his chest.
“I have your palm pressed warm against mine.”
Her heart raced, in sync with his, drumming against his ribcage.
“And that, my love," his lips taut against the back of her hand, "Feels close enough to certainty.”
At last, her fortress began to crumble—face washing up in deep pink, green eyes softer, lips still hesitant to express delight.
His kisses nuzzled longer on her hand—owning, claiming. Then it stopped, as Shikamaru fidgeted on her fingers, his mind seeking clarity and validity to attempt again—for the fifth time.
He exhaled, heavy but hopeful.
“Marry me.”
“What. No!" she jumped, a leering look shot to him.
“Tch. You troublesome woman,” he fumed, “It’s not a question.”
She had always been proud, not wanting to admit things that could translate as weakness, things like love and emotions. But secretly, she loved it when Shikamaru cornered and conquered her like this, because it was times like these she knew that he was absolutely sure what he wanted.
“I’m telling you, Temari.”
She gasped.
“Marry me.”
Dissolving into warmth, a small smile curved up her lips, as she melted completely. Temari traced the edges of his face, hooked her thumb over his lower lip, and sealed his lips like a promise.
The answer was unspoken, but there was no need for words when the action echoed louder than everything else.
Temari towered over him, golden ponytails waving in the breeze, bright eyes, blushed cheeks, wide grin, her face brilliant against the cloud-stained blue sky.
Shikamaru held back his tears with a smile.
"Finally. Mine."
