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Assistant: Title: CHESS
        Author: lethargicshadowlover undefined 
        Chapter: 24/35 
        Summary: New to the practice, Temari has trained and studied for years to help people in the treatment of mental illnesses. Sharp and high-achieving, she's sure she can handle anyone who steps through those doors and lands on the couch in her office. That is, until one difficult young man - who will only answer her questions under one, strange condition - tests her patience, her knowledge, and her self-restraint all at once.
            
            The first day of anything is always tough, but Temari get quite the rough deal.
        Contents: Chapter 24: Like Father, Like Son
    

    

        
          
          
            Gaara and Kankuro have different conversational approaches, and Shikaku is a little too interested in his son's life.
          
        

      
        
          sorry it's been a while. but wahey - I'm back!
      
  

  
  
    
    As Gaara heard the latch of the door click when it shut, laughter echoed through the house, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sound. Rising above the murmuring of the television upstairs, his brother’s laughed bellowed out and, slightly quieter, his sister’s giggles fell well-received on Gaara’s ears. Kicking off his shoes, the young man stepped through into the main room to see the pair grinning. Kankuro clutched the arm of the sofa, and from the floor Temari smiled up at him, and the youngest sibling found himself clearing his throat to grab their attention.The smile on his face not ceasing, Kankuro turned to his brother. “Have you seen this?” he asked, uncharacteristically excited.It took seconds for Gaara to see the movie on the screen and register how awful it was. Slowly, he shook his head and reached for a towel from the kitchen side, rubbing it across his sopping wet hair.Temari rolled her eyes. “You forget that Gaara doesn’t like bad horror movies.”“But taking the p@ss out of them is hilarious!”“They’re just terrible, Kankuro,” sighed Gaara, placing the now wet cloth on the nearest radiator. “But if you both want to keep watching I can grab dinner.”“No need.” The excitement in Kankuro’s voice hadn’t wavered. “We’ve got fajitas!”“Hopefully not cooked by you…”“Very funny,” he chuckled. “No. Tem said she’d make whatever I fancied.”He could see the way the blonde adjusted her position as he said her name, her shoulder’s tensing slightly before beaming at him almost lifelessly. She looked flushed. No, she looked flustered—but such feeling was clearly hidden behind her eyes and the falseness she seemed to carry herself with in this moment. It didn’t so much seem like she was lying about anything, to Gaara—he dealt with lies constantly. What lay in her eyes was something even more worrying to him; her face was laced with guilt.And yet she laughed with a true sense of authenticity. Rarely had she liked the ridiculous movies that flew across the TV screen more than Gaara did, and yet her grin was undeniable; her gaze set rigidly on the middle child as though if his smile were to waver her world—her facade of whatever this was—would come crashing down.“Will there be cheese?” he asked, leaning against the table casually as he strengthened his stare at Temari.“If you’re willing to go up the shop and get it, sure,” she replied. “But I doubt you’re willing to brave the elements after you just got in, and I just had a shower so I’m definitely not going out there.”Slowly, all eyes started to turn to Kankuro, but even he pulled a disgruntled expression as he let the cushions of the sofa swallow him up. As Temari rolled her eyes and hopped to her feet, her cheeks flushed with something Gaara was sure wasn’t simply warmth, and he tapped her on the shoulder as she strolled past him, stopping her.“Hey,” he said softly, his voice deep. “Can I ask you something?”He thought he saw her gulp. “Go ahead.”The feeling of their brother’s eyes on them was unfathomably intense. Kankuro’s stare felt almost like it would burn through his shirt and brand Gaara a sneaky b@gg@r for trying to reveal this serene family evening for what it truly was. But as his brother groaned, and in his peripheral vision propped himself up to better listen in, Gaara let out a massive sigh. He knew there was no way he could possibly talk to Temari and get her to be honest with him here, and if he did the young man would blow everything totally out of proportion; though he meant well, he always did.Besides, Gaara had the biggest inkling that what was plaguing his sister was something to do with the man who currently sat atop Kankuro’s ‘hate list’ as he sometimes called it. But he had to ask—he’d think himself a bad brother if he let it slide and kept up the charade.No, he had to get Kankuro to leave. And it really ought to have been easy enough, given he could annoy his brother to the ends of the Earth.“Brother,” he began, “would you mind going and getting cheese?”Kankuro stifled a laugh, raising his eyebrows at him. “I wish you’d stop saying that.”“What?”“Brother.”“But you are my brother.”“Yes. And yet it’s bl@@dy creepy when you say it.”“Please,” he added politely, “it’s only about her stuff. There’s this criminal psychology element of this module I’m doing and—”“Okay, fine. I’m gone.” He hauled himself up and grabbed his coat from the wall. “But there better be hot food ready when I get back.” Both Gaara and Temari watched as he rummaged his pockets, checking for his wallet and forcing a smile. Reluctantly he gave them a thumbs up, swinging round the threshold towards the front door.The minute he heard that door slam shut and steps grow softer upon their pathway, Gaara shot his attention straight back to his sister, who’s expression had transformed into the very image of relief.“Right,” he sighed, “what have you done?”Temari frowned, forcing a laugh as she backed away, opening the fridge when she reached it. “I’m sorry?”Gaara’s eyes widened, his forehead wrinkling slightly. “You’re acting really suspiciously, Temari. Letting Kankuro watch his awful movies, cooking him what he wants for dinner…” He shook his head a little, smirking. “This is textbook guilty behaviour for you, so what have you done?”As her eyes locked onto her brother’s eyes, Temari felt her gut twist. It upset her how wrong he wasn’t, and how easily he could read her after all these years. She hesitated as she reached into the fridge, blind, her fingertips quivering at the cold and the nerves that shot through her. Millions of times she had offloaded her problems onto Gaara, and more than a couple of times had she told him about the men she’d dated, been with, avoided, sometimes even in serious detail. He knew he understood, and he knew that he would almost never judge. ‘The cool brother’, he had said; but in reality wasn’t there a point that cool might become cold?Why did telling him about today feel like that could be the point? Why did it feel like letting slip about Shikamaru, and how she clung to his every word—even clung to his body at one d@mn point—would completely alter his view on her; on him, too?Unlike Kankuro, Gaara was at this point open-minded about Shikamaru. No, he’d actively assisted in setting up their date last night. She wanted at least one of them to like him, and she wanted Gaara, in particular, to not think ill of her for this. She knew she’d been hasty, but today had been a long time coming. Only when it had happened had she realised the truth in that fact, but it had.But how right it seemed to her didn’t mean things would translate the same in his brain.No, she couldn’t risk it.“Nothing,” she choked out.She ripped a packet of chicken from the fridge shelf and dropped it on the side, and every followed in quick succession. Every clatter of plastic or cardboard shot through her ears,, distracting her for a mere second before her lip would start twitching. As she shut the door she caught it between her teeth, and absentmindedly began to pick at her fingernails.Reluctantly her eyes raised to see him once again, staring at her expectantly. “Oh, okay. Fine,” she whined, leaning against the kitchen side. “You know I went out with him last night?” She waited for her brother to nod. “Yeah, it went really well. Like really well.”Gaara sighed, sitting up on the kitchen side next to her. “You didn’t sleep with him?”“No, I didn’t,” she shook her head, biting her lip. “But I saw him today and…” Uncomfortably, she cleared her throat. “Well…”“You slept with him.”Temari ducked her head in shame, pouting as she frowned. “Don’t make me feel guilty, Gaara.”“I’m not. You’re doing that to yourself,” he sighed.“You’re being blunt, and you’re obviously disappointed in me,” sighed Temari, avoiding her brother’s eyes. “May I remind you that you egged me on to sleep with him the other week?”“I was joking. I thought that would be clear.”She shifted her weight, turning and reaching for a knife before grabbing a pepper from one of the packets. “Gaara, can we get to the questions about psychology please?”“Obviously there aren’t any.”If she wasn’t drowning in guilt she wouldn’t rolled her eyes. “I seriously hate you sometimes.”Gaara, however, held no such guilt, and rolled his as he hopped off the side and sat down at the table. “I’m not disappointed in you.”She began to chop. “You look it.”“No, I’m just worried about you.”“Shikamaru is harmless,” she told him, her voice completely level.Gaara screwed his nose up.“Don’t do a Kankuro on me,” she whined. “Speaking of: don’t you dare mention this to him.”“You have to at least tell him you aren’t treating Shikamaru anymore.”“Why? It’s none of his business.”Gaara hoisted his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen a couple of times. “Temari, I get bi-hourly updates about your boyfriend whenever he’s in the shop.”“You’re kidding…”“I’m not. Read them.” He carefully handed her the device and pursed his lips as she took it, tentative.She frowned as her eyes adjusted, focussing on the bright screen.(8:42) Kankuro: Why does he always look like that????(8:53) Gaara: Who?(8:54) Kankuro: Temari’s stalker(8:54) Gaara: ?(8:55) Kankuro: Spiky haired pr@ck. He’s got a face like a busted boot(8:59) Gaara: Class is starting. Grow up, brother.Temari looked up at her youngest brother who, himself, looked bemused.(12:32) Kankuro: G he’s a smoker. Seriously! Imagine what dad would say if he knew she was throwing her license for this idiot(12:33) Gaara: I’m in class. I’m focussing. I suggest you do the same.(12:33) Kankuro: Seriously! face is so punchable G(12:39) Gaara: Turn away from the window and work.(12:40) Gaara:  And do not call me ‘G’.(14:59) Kankuro: G if he touches Tem I will acc hit him(15:02) Kankuro: *Gaara(15:07) Kankuro: blonde girl in the shop is hot though.“He’s going to start being problematic soon.”Her head shot up again, her mouth gaping open. “Start?” A dumbfounded laugh spluttered out. “Gaara, he went into the shop and spoke to him solely about me yesterday. And this? How long has he been doing it?”“Only since the start of the week.”She rolled her eyes, genuinely unable to form a serious thought on the situation. “Only…”With a loud buzz, the phone in her hand vibrated, and on the screen appeared another message from Kankuro. Through her body shot an intense feeling of fear that maybe in her amazement and with carelessness she had pressed voice record; that maybe he’d been listening to her. Nervously she took a proper look at what had appeared.A photograph of two rivalling blocks of cheese in the palm of Kankuro’s huge hand.Temari’s eyes flew to the back of her head as she passed it back to Gaara and turned her attention back to the chopping of peppers. “I can’t tell him I went out with Shikamaru, Gaara.”“And why not?” he asked, rapidly tapping his screen. “I’m not asking you to admit you shagged him—”“Gaara, please stop.”“—just that you’ve stopped seeing him as a patient. And that you’ve seen him as an, um…non-patient.”Forcing back a smile at her brother’s awkwardness, Temari pursed her lips. “I can’t do that.”“Why not?”“Because I want to keep seeing him…”Gaara put his phone down, sitting back in the chair with a deep sigh. He ran a hand through his hair as he zoned in on the worry in her eyes. The opposition lurking at the back of his throat was silenced in one look and he smiled softly at her. “Nobody can’t stop you, but I think at the very least you need to prioritise his mental health.”“I have been thoroughly schooled in prioritising such things, thank you,” she groaned.“Then just do it.”Forget worry; her impatience was taking centre stage now. “He’s not my patient anymore, Gaara!”“Then make sure he’s someone’s patient,” he sighed. “As his girlfriend you owe that to him.”“We’ve been on one date and…” She blushed. “Look, I’m not his girlfriend.”“You want to be.” He paused as she stopped cutting vegetables and raised her eyebrows at him. “Don’t look at me like that, Temari. Don’t deny it.”With a sigh she shook her head. “I do,” she said, “but you and Kankuro—”“What about me and Kankuro?”“You’ll try and stop me.”“We wont,” insisted Gaara. “I just told you—”“Okay then: he will.”Gaara shook his head, smiling. “No, Temari; he won’t. Dad would’ve, and while Kankuro has his moments, they are different people.”“But he isn’t wrong,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand. “And Dad would’ve been so annoyed that I spent so long studying just to get my license revoked.”“It won’t be.”Her eyebrows raised. “How do you know that?”The look in his eyes told her plainly that he didn’t, but his composed voice almost tricked her. “Just be rational for a minute, Temari.”“Gaara…”“Gaara, what?”“His mental state,” she sighed. “I can’t be responsible for worsening it…”Temari watched him closely as he ran his hands through his hair, elbows flush against the table. He stared at his lap, head hung low, as though he had no idea how to counter her, and why should he? For whatever reason her brother seemed conflicted; one side of him desperate for righteousness, the other yearning for his sister to simply be happy. She couldn’t exactly blame him. If the tables were turned then Temari knew she’d have no idea how to approach the situation, and she doubted she’d be able to stop herself focussing solely on the pros of the situation—Gaara deserved someone more than she did in her eyes, after all.The mental back and forth that was obvious from the twiddling of his hair around his fingers terrified her. It terrified her because he was a logical man and he was a smart one. It terrified her because Gaara weighed up the cons before the pros, and he was a stickler for finding the problems; his little honourable brain couldn’t help but be right.But as her nails tapped on the chopping board, Gaara’s muscles tightened, and he couldn’t help but squirm, totally unsure. He’d known what she wanted before the words slipped from her lips, he’d understood the predicament without her doing more than outlining the situation. And, what was by far the worst feeling: he knew exactly what he needed to tell her right now.While he’d never met the man, he’d been in similar shoes. Not quite the same tread, and certainly not walked the same pathways that his had taken, but the fit was the same. Slightly suffocating, expectant and tiring; slow, arduous and anxiety riddling with every step. Gaara knew how it felt to be staring at the person in the plush chair, behind the desk, with their notepads and their false smiles, and empathy bubbled to the surface more and more the longer he pondered.Regrettably, Temari had been right. Shikamaru needed help, just like she had always said from the beginning, and he knew if he was the one still strapped into the rollercoaster of therapy it would not have helped him to get off just for a lover.Nervously the young man gulped, biting on his lip.“Maybe you’re right,” said Gaara, reluctantly. “Maybe you should take a step back until he’d secure.”As her eyes began to pr@ckle, Temari nodded solemnly. How could she have expected any other answer from him? Of course he was right, and of course he was ethical about it. He just couldn’t be any other way when it came down to it. His pleasantries and his idealistic approach lasted only so long, and with a wipe of her eyes, Temari forced a smile at him as if to show him she understood that he meant only well. Age really did mean nothing, and the youngest was far and away the most mature—Gaara was ten times more competent in adult decision making than she was.And yet, in the end—despite his words sounding hauntingly like the thoughts that ate away at her ever further from the back of her mind, too close to the front—it would make no difference. There was something about Shikamaru that tickled her impulses, and after years of saying no to everything, being inherently good and sensible, he made her senses tingle with that desire to do something: anything! His persona captivated her so much she hated it, and her body told her that no matter what she would be texting him in half an hour, she would be asking him if he still wanted to see her Saturday, and if he did she would definitely be running to see him.Shikamaru brought out all the things in Temari she had spent her life tucking away, compartmentalising into little boxes she wanted to keep secret for the rest of her life and feelings she never even thought she’d access. He’d also, unwittingly, caused her to throw away, at some level, her regard for reasoning and she didn’t care.For the first time, Temari’s heart—as much as she still somewhat queried if it was indeed that which did this—was holding the reins, and she was really quite okay with that.Slowly she took a couple of steps closer to the table, blinking away the guilty tears she didn’t want to admit to having. With a smile, Gaara rose to his feet and sighed. “I want you to know that I do want you to be happy. I really do,” he added. “Why else would I have called Shikamaru for you yesterday?”Temari embraced him without a second thought, swaying side to side in a tight and much needed hug, when out of the corner of her eye appeared a dripping wet face; confused and struck with what seemed like rage, a block of cheddar held in a white knuckle grip.“Gaara,” Kankuro forced out, his voice laced with a disagreeable laugh. “What did you just say?” His clothes glued to his skin, Shikamaru shifted slightly in his chair, poking aimlessly at the food on his plate. It sat before him miserable and just cold enough he didn’t want another mouthful, which according to his mother was just what he got for being home late. His parents finishing off their dinner with mixed emotions ever-present in their eyes, and the atmosphere around the round table was nothing short of the usual, un-engaging dynamic he was used to.As he forced down another mouthful of chicken a shiver made it’s way up his spine to his neck, the cold seeping into every pore. It was then the thought came to him as he stared at down: Why wasn’t I allowed to get changed?“Why are you soaking wet, Shikamaru?”“Rain, Mum,” he groaned. “Wet, it falls from the sky…ever heard of it?”He swore he heard Shikaku splutter slightly, but the man wasn’t giving anything away.“Why didn’t you get the bus?”“I got a cab.”“A cab?”“Yes.” It was a strain not to roll his eyes, but he stopped himself. “A cab.”“Then why are you wet?”Shikamaru turned to his father, frowning desperately. “Dad…”“Are you going to eat your broccoli?”“Mum, I’m twenty three.”“So you can definitely formulate a sentence to answer me. Are you going to eat your broccoli?”He looked at Shikaku once again, who merely raised his eyebrows at the young man as if to tell him, ‘Just eat the d@mn broccoli.’ Slowly he shovelled a forkful of peas into his mouth, armed with the knowledge that he should certainly be afraid if he were to annoy his mother.“Thank you,” said Yoshino, in that same sweet voice, dripping with relief, that she used whenever her son or husband gave into her requests. “Can you pass me the gravy, Shikaku?”The older man caned his neck slightly, staring into the abyss of an empty jug. “There’s none left, love.”Frowning, she reached for the jug and peered inside as if she didn’t believe him. “Well,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes, “that’s disappointing. You need to make more next time.”“Make more?” chuckled Shikaku as he shook his head. “And encourage myself to drown my food further?”Shikamaru smiled as he locked eyes with his father for a split second. It had been a long time since Shikaku had cooked dinner, and for once it wasn’t awful. That didn’t necessarily mean that he wanted to eat the shoddy excuse for food, dowsed in gravy until it seemed more like soup than a roast dinner, but he appreciated the sentiment. And his father cooking meant one thing—Yoshino didn’t hold it over their heads that she’d fed them that evening, so they had that tiny bit more power than normal, and they were certainly going to take advantage of it.“Love, could you possibly go and grab that bottle I saw you put in the fridge?”Yoshino frowned, and so did Shikamaru. His father didn’t usually like to drink with his food, and he liked even less to drink in front of his son given the knowledge he held. This was a ploy—Shikamaru could see that plain as day. His dad was going drop something on him, and he had to get ready for it.“Please,” her husband sighed. “I just really fancy it.”“And if you’re going, can you grab me some more water?” added Shikamaru, barely turning from staring at his father as he took another bite to merely prove a point.Shaking her head, the woman lifted her empty plate and her husband’s with a sigh and stepped backwards out of the room. “You’re lazy, Shikamaru Nara!”“He’s just efficient,” called back Shikaku when he was sure his wife was far enough away she wouldn’t hear anything softer typical chatter, smiling at his son as he chewed.The young man widened his eyes and cocked his head to one side expectantly until his father rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward with an inquisitive look. “So your date last night,” Shikaku whispered, “go well?”Even with the mental preparation he’d tried to give himself, Shikamaru almost choked. “What the f@ck?”He chuckled, shaking his head at the predictability of his son. “That is why you’ve been sneaking about, isn’t it?”“I haven’t been ‘sneaking about’, Dad…”“Come on, boy. Tell me.”Shikamaru frowned and closed his eyes. “Dad, stop.”“Serious or just s@x?”“Oh Christ, Dad—stop.” He almost threw his knife and fork to his plate, doing all he could not to plug his ears with his finger tips. “I am begging you, old man: stop talking.”“The top button of your shirt is broken,” observed Shikaku, a snide chuckle at the back of his throat, ready to unleash when his son’s fingertips flew to his collar at once. “And your hair is particularly messy.”Shikamaru could feel his cheeks flush, burning hot, when he felt no button. “My hair is always messy thanks to your genes…”“That’s why you were late wasn’t it?”With one huge squeeze, he let his eyes finally pry open to see the expectant-looking man before him. “Dad,” he groaned out, desperate for an end to the awkward feeling that flew through his veins.“Say ‘Dad’ as much as you want, kid. I’m not changing the subject.”Shikamaru looked particularly embarrassed, and as his hand instinctively found the hairs on the back of his neck he sighed. There was no stopping this man. If there was one thing his father had always wanted from him it was honesty; and being open with the trials and tribulations of his everyday life, no matter how big or how small, fell into this category.And, despite the searing flashes of mortification and sudden memories of awkward talks in years gone by that this moment, right now, brought him, Shikamaru could hardly blame his father’s intrusion into his life. After all, Shikaku had never seen his son date or have a girlfriend, and he’d barely ever—maybe even only once—talked to him about women in general, too. So, it was inevitable that this conversation would arise at some point given the observational skills that his father possessed. Shikamaru just wished that it had come at a different time; a time where he could answer at least one simple question. The one he was grinding his teeth waiting for.“Is it her?”He frowned. That wasn’t the question he was expecting. “Who?” he laughed, confused.“The therapist,” his dad said, as if it was the most unexciting and normal thing in the world.Shikamaru began to pull on his baby-hairs, barely able to mutter through his uncomfortable laughter, “Dad…” “Yes, then.”To the untrained eye, Shikaku Nara would’ve looked entirely uninterested at that moment— emotionless and plain—but Shikamaru had lived enough years inside paper-thin walls with him to know the man better than that. He knew his father far too well to zone in on the creases between his eyebrows resembling a weak frown and peg him as angry, and he knew so much better than to focus only on the little smile that twitched at the corner of his mouth when his son’s cheeks grew uncomfortably red. The consistent happiness in Shikaku’s eyes as he stared down the young man almost masked the evident worry he held, but Shikamaru understood.He’d known—of course he’d known—and he also knew that it wasn’t exactly a good situation. And after, way back when, the weird lady who’d tried to jump him in the waiting room rather than ever helping him, he couldn’t entirely bash his father’s cynicism. After all, being raised by a cynic had rubbed off on him a little, as well.But cynicism, he’d discovered in the time he knew Temari, fell short with your feelings. Sometimes, he’d learned, you had to just put your faith in something and run with it, despite every inch of your being and your personality frowning upon that. And last night he had truly started sprinting, and there was no way he was turning back.That didn’t make it any easier to admit something which was undeniably frowned upon across the board, though.“It’s not her fault,” Shikamaru whispered. “It’s mine.”Surprisingly his father’s smile grew as he leaned a little closer. “Shikamaru, it isn’t anybody’s fault,” he sighed.The young man, as relieved as he felt, couldn’t help but stare at him, his subtly worried expression unchanged.“Love is just love, isn’t it?” Shikaku chuckled. “The first time I met your mother, she slapped me round the face—do you think I asked to fall in love with her?” He waited for a smile on his son’s face that never came, and with a gentle sigh sat back in his chair, shrugging. “I just happens, son. We can’t help it.”Shikamaru ducked his head quickly and lifted his fork once more, just to push his uneaten broccoli around his plate.“So it’s too soon to say love?”“Of course it is,” almost spat Shikamaru through a laugh. “I’ve only known her a month, Dad—barely that!” “Time doesn’t make it any less real.”He truly never thought he’d have this conversation with his father. Whether it was that he’d never expected to come across anyone like Temari as he dragged his feet through life or whether he just didn’t think Shikaku would care, everything about this was so foreign it felt impossible—surreal, even. If the ground were to have swallowed him up then before he could form any word to respond, that would’ve been fine. If his mother had returned and intruded then that would’ve been so warmly welcomed (but she’d clearly misplaced the corkscrew again and was taking an age.) And worst of all, his father wasn’t easing up on his expectant look just yet.Honesty, thought Shikamaru. I should just be honest. Tell him I don’t know how I feel yet.But that wasn’t truly honest, and even if it was such things were so much harder to execute than to say. “I’m not good with my feelings,” he groaned, dropping his fork. “I don’t have to tell you that.”“That’s just cause you’ve never had them.”Shikamaru fortunately registered the humour and shook his head with something that vaguely resembled a smile. “Cold, Dad. Cold.”“Maybe you could talk to your therapist about it.”“Aren’t you hilarious?” he said, deciding to keep quiet about the fact that, as it stood, he didn’t actually have one.“Seriously, boy,” Shikaku chuckled and raised his eyebrows at him, “just be honest with yourself. Tell her how you—”“Here you go!”Shikamaru jumped as into the room flew Yoshino, placing before his father a bottle, and a half-empty glass in front of him. Nervously he smiled as his mother frowned.“What? What did I miss?”“Nothing,” the men said in unison, sharing a subtly knowing glance as one took a drink and the other lifted his fork slowly.“Oh, Dad, before I forget,” Shikamaru began, piercing through another lump of broccoli to please his mother. “Can I borrow the car on Saturday?”With a raised eyebrows, the older man hummed. “Why?”He cocked his head to one side, lip between his teeth as he momentarily widened his eyes. “Just told Choji I’d—”“Okay,” Shikaku shot back, understanding instantly. “Go for it. Just don’t crash it—oh, or stain anything in it!”“Very funny.” “Shikamaru?” Kankuro pounded the block of cheese in his hand onto the side before shedding his coat to the ground. “As in flower shop Shikamaru?”With a gulp the young woman nodded. “Yes.”“Gaara, why are you egging her on with this?”“He’s not—”“Why aren’t you?” intervened Gaara. “Pick your coat up.”“Because she’s our sister, that’s why! I don’t like the idea of her f@ck@ng everything up, and f@ck@ng him while she—”“Kankuro, she’s right bl@@dy here!” he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Our sister is a human being capable, frankly, of far superior thought to us. You really think she hasn’t approached this entire situation with the necessary caution?”“Obviously not if anything at all has happened!” Kankuro gaped and waggled his finger at her accusatively, lowering his tone suspiciously. ‘That’s where you went last night, isn’t it?”Temari fumbled to speak, her throat closed with anxiety.“Holy sh@t, it was!” he laughed. “And the night before—it was his you stayed at wasn’t it?”“Kankuro,” she began weakly with tired eyes, never getting the chance to explain herself. “Please stop it…”“Didn’t I tell you, Gaara?”Sick of being the middle man, the youngest sibling sighed and turned away sheepishly.“You bl@@dy…you arsehole…” Amazed, Kankuro turned back to his sister and shook his head, arms spread wide. “He bl@@dy knew? And you didn’t tell me a thing?”She gaped, her nose scr@w@ng up more by the second. “Well, excuse me if I didn’t want you to physically attack a perfectly nice and innocent man, Kankuro.”“Innocent?” he spat. “You don’t watch him every day like I do. You don’t see him and that hot blonde!”Temari’s blood began to burn through her veins. “My God, you’re so full of sh@t.”“And you don’t know him! He’s a bad influence on you—can’t you see that?”“Spoken by the true angel that you are,” she scoffed. “The man doesn’t even drink! Yes, he smokes, but there’re far worse things he could be doing with his time!”“I meant professionally, Tem, but if you want to go down that road, let’s go there. Shall we, yeah?” Kankuro crossed his arms, almost snarling. “That girl—the one in the shop he’s always with—you really think that him and her aren’t at it?”“You’re disgusting…”“No, Temari!” He shook his head. “I’m just not blind, unlike some. Men are arseholes—”“You think I haven’t noticed that from living with you?”Gaara spluttered with laughter, earning a glare from the pair of them, and sunk back into his chair. “Sorry,” he breathed out.“Temari,” said Kankuro, his voice laden with a sickeningly familiar patronising tone, “just take a minute to be honest with yourself. You know that he is a bad idea, and you know that you can do so much better than this mess that you’ve willingly gotten yourself into!”Never in her life, even in the first few sessions with Shikamaru, had she ever wanted to sent her fist flying into somebody’s cheekbone as much as she did right now. There were only a handful of times in her life that she’d truly unleashed her rage on her own brothers, and undeniably most of those were to Kankuro, and he was teetering her on the edge of repeating it. Temari could feel her whole body shaking, her fists tightened into white b@lls from the tension; fixed like concrete and ready to swing. Every square inch of her skin felt like it was flaming and she could sense the most horrible nervous feeling of needles all over her body.It wasn’t like she was actively waiting to break her brother’s jaw, but if the opportunity presented itself—f she had to hit him at this point—she wouldn’t hesitate. “Three strikes,” she muttered under breath, so quietly the furious man before her barely noticed.“Temari, you deserve some guy who can pull his own weight…”Didn’t take long, she thought. Strike one.“…that you don’t have to f@ck@ng baby…”
  Strike two.
“…because his is so f@ck@d that can barely hold it together for ten minutes without having to rely on f@ck@ng cigarettes and your stupid advice!”
  Strike three.
But her hands couldn’t move. Instead, when she felt herself surge forward in her unfiltered glory, words just started to fly out.“Have you sat down and listened to him talk about his life? About his mind? About how he tried to f@ck@ng kill himself, Kankuro?” screamed Temari, her face right up in his. “Do you ever stop to consider what it’s like in someone else’s mind and not in your pessimistic like sh@t hole you call a brain? God, you’re a prick!”Kankuro, for a moment seemed speechless. For a split second as his eyes widened and the air in the room grew clammy, it almost felt like she’d hit the right nerve to stop him in his tracks. Because, in reality, how dare he? Where did he earn the right to spout such garbage at her—lies about a kind soul and comments on things he knew literally nothing about? If he was mute from this moment on that would surely be a blessing!Slowly Temari stepped back, glaring as her voice simmered down to a softer, more scathing vein. “Now what the f@ck have you got to say for yourself, huh?”There was a beat, and Gaara shuffled anxiously at the table as Kankuro stepped up to his sister once more.“You shouldn’t see him again, Temari; you’re going to get hurt.”“Oh, shut your d@mn mouth. Nobody’s going to hurt me but you.” She squinted at him, disgusted by the flickers she could see of her father in his eyes. “Make your own f@ck@ng fajitas, @ssh@l@.”'
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