He never told her that he loved her.
Unlike Naruto, Shikamaru had never once shamelessly shouted out his ever-lasting love for his 'Ino-chan'. Unlike Kiba, he had never once slung his arm around her shoulders in public, dragging her wolfishly against him before dropping a loud smooch on her lips in full view of her friends. Unlike Lee, he had never once ran a hundred laps around the village proclaiming his youthful fires of passion in order to get his girl to forgive him. Unlike Neji, he had never once displayed his concern under the guise of offering to train her day and night until her weary body collapsed and he had an excuse to carry her home.
No, Nara Shikamaru was much more subtle than that.
And although it had taken her some time to read between the lines, Ino found that she preferred him that way.
For one thing, there was the way he looked at her.
Ino would often catch Shikamaru staring at her, his expression curious and somewhat confused before he would realize she was watching him and his face would jerk away as if trying to hide from the question in her eyes. Other times, she would find herself the recipient of an unwavering black gaze, his eyes holding her in place while he gently thread his fingers through her pale hair. Then, he was open, vulnerable as he allowed her to see the various emotions running through his mind. There was affection, longing and contentment, but there was also uncertainty and fear.
Fear that she would one day leave him, would realize that she was too good for him and toss him away for someone more deserving.
The first time she had seen that side of him, Ino had been shocked. Not because he thought her capable of such callousness, but because a much-prized genius like him could ever think himself unworthy of her. And so she had smiled at him, tucking his spiky head into the curve of her neck while she whispered over and over again how much she loved him, her hands stroking over his back as he clutched her wordlessly.
Shika was also fiercely protective of his belongings.
Although he was probably the laziest person who had ever walked the face of this earth, he never failed to show up whenever she asked him to train with her. True, he might grumble and whine the entire time but the Nara always went all out, never once insulting her by holding back but only pausing to correct her stance or throw out some advice.
After a while, Ino had found out that he had repeatedly requested that Tsunade-sama remove Ino's name from some of the more dangerous missions. She had been furious at that, striding up to him and screaming between whacks that he didn't trust her, that he doubted her abilities. He had hugged her then, his muscled arms enclosing her in a tight cocoon so that she could not move. He had mumbled that she had got it all wrong, that he trusted her above all others and that he just wanted to keep her safe.
Ino had weakened, the broken sound of his voice touching her somewhere deep inside. She had forced him to allow her to join in one of his ever-increasing missions, had fought alongside him even as he automatically shifted to stand in front of her. And when the fight was over, when she had collapsed of chakra depletion, his hands had wandered anxiously over her blood-splattered form, reassuring himself that there were no serious injuries.
She had laughed weakly, her hand raising to tuck his messed up hair as she playfully got him to admit that she was strong enough to handle anything they could throw at her. Shikamaru had chuckled at that, pressing his cheek against her hand before swallowing the tension that had gripped him ever since the enemy had dared to lay a hand on the girl in his arms.
The others might be shocked to discover that he was surprisingly physical too.
Ino found that he liked to keep in contact with her at all times. Whether it was a large hand on the small of her back as he guided her through the crowds, or an outstretched leg that brushed against hers as they lay on the hill watching the clouds, Shikamaru was always there.
His touch was warm and electrifying but more than anything, possessive. Strong fingers would ghost over the back of her bare arm, pausing to gently stroke the sensitive crook of her elbow before they intertwined with her own slim fingers. His firm grasp would tighten almost instinctively, his body stiffening at the same time whenever another male got too close. At those moments, Ino would glance up at him mischievously, the knowing twinkle in her clear blue eyes eliciting a sheepish grin from the boy, who nevertheless drew her minutely closer.
And lastly, his hunger for her was urgent too.
The first time they had been together, he had been nervous. His mouth had pressed heated, open kisses on her skin but his hands had not strayed from their clamped hold on her waist. Ino had wanted to hit him when he muttered something unsteadily about this being troublesome, about how she was probably going to kick his ass the next morning for daring to touch her and he should stop while he was ahead, right?
But then she had realized his hands were shaking, his lean body tense above hers and that, despite his words, his tongue was still lapping roughly at the dip in her collarbone. So instead of pushing him off and huddling up in a rejected bundle like she had originally intended to do when he first displayed signs of stopping, Ino had wound her arms around his neck, tugging him closer in order to stop his brooding with her mouth. All it took was a soft gasp of his name in his ear and he had surrendered in a mind-blowing rush, ripping off her clothes and caressing her everywhere with a feverish abandon that culminated with his hoarse groan of her name escaping his lips.
After that, he never again hesitated in reaching for her, the dark desire swirling in his eyes the only warning she got before he pressed his body tightly against hers. His hands and mouth would worship her, always taking the time to lavish attention on those parts of her body that he had quickly discovered would make her moan and writhe against him. Even if it was against a tree during one of their missions, on the grass under the waving willow where they were star-gazing or in his sparsely decorated room, Shikamaru never once left her in doubt of his need for her.
And he always gave as good as he got, teasing her with those skillful fingers until she was as drunk as he was, incoherent pleas filling the air as she restlessly ground her hips against the heavy bulge searing her stomach. Only then did he thrust into her, the frantic pounding of his body completely at odds with the way he continuously panted her name against her sweaty skin, his voice awed and adoring.
More importantly, Shikamaru was always by her side.
Through thick and thin, through tantrums and fights, Ino knew one thing for sure: he would always come back to her. As shinobi, their duties were risky. No one knew what the future held, whether you would die tomorrow at the hands of a stronger enemy or tonight in your sleep as a spy slit your throat. But every time he left, Shikamaru promised to come back, his expression serious and steady.
And Ino believed him. Even though promises like that were difficult to keep and led to heart-ache more often than not, Ino believed him. Because, like he often said, who else would put up with someone as troublesome as her? Who else would allow her to order them around even if it was blatantly obvious that they would rather take a nap? Who else would cuddle up with her under the stars even if they knew she would fall asleep and they would be forced to bring her back to bed?
She was made for him and he always came back to claim what was his.
And so, it didn't matter that he never said those three words.
Because even if he didn't say it, Ino heard him loud and clear.
The End
By amwong88
