Hi and welcome to my newest drabbledump for post-canon shikatema. If it's from a request, the original request will preface the fic.
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4572 days for Shikatema to become canon.

i. routine

Fifteen years ago - to call this a routine, well, he would've laughed. He's smart. He's always been, and therefore he was realistic. This woman? She's a new brand of crazy, and one he never wanted to put up with.

Twelve years ago - to call this a routine, he would've thought about it. She's different. Different from any of the kunoichi he'd met in Konoha, and part of him wonders if it's her or if its Suna. Truthfully, by extension, he got to know her siblings well, and they were nothing like Konoha residents. And that intrigued him, made him wonder (for the pure reasons of speculation alone) what life would be like with them - with her.

Ten years ago - to call this a routine, well, he secretly had dreamt it. The first time he woke up from such a dream, he was astounded with himself. Any other person would've chalked it off as nonsensical, as perhaps something spurned upon because he'd spent the last evening with her, as he had with the day before, and the day before that. But that wasn't a choice - it was his job. He was just happy his job had been consistent, because out of all the troublesome women in his life, he could put up with her the most. (and that was all there was to it.)

Nine years ago - to call this a routine, he would've already known what was coming. He'd already thought of all the possibilities, in fact the nights he couldn't sleep, which was often - after the war, he'd lie in bed and just think. About her. He's not stupid - he knew he liked her. Why else would his dream show him her? Why else did the thought of being with her not seem as strange with every passing year? Because he secretly wanted it to be a routine - and probably had wanted it for at least the past 3 years. But what step does he take, how does he have it come to fruition?

It probably involved a ring.

That already seemed troublesome.

Seven years ago - to call this a routine, he could probably get used to the idea. After waking up in the bed too big to call his own, seeing her there, beside him, wasn't as surprising or as revelation-y as he'd expected. No, she's there - with him. It was the start of their days together, the start of something he'd only dreamed about before.

And it truly was a routine, but it wasn't a chore. He woke up, as he does every day, to her beside him. He slipped out of his bed and groped the headside table for a hairtie. Ino'd always joked that the Nara Household never had a shortage of them, and since his marriage to the ex Sand Kunoichi, the amount of hairties only increased.

And it did, once more, after their first son was born.

He hated alarms. So did she, but she insisted on keeping them around - because they're both adults and aren't allowed to be late. But, as he's always done since he was a chuunin, he of course woke up before the alarm went off. There was still five minutes to go, so he figured he wouldn't wake his wife - five minutes of sleep was five minutes he had to himself.

Not that he particularly minded - just after having a child, being adviser to one the loudest Hokage yet, and being married to such a (captivatingly) troublesome woman, the few moments of silence within his own head was welcome.

So he messily gathered his hair into a loose ponytail - he'd fix it later, after he'd washed his face and brushed his teeth. He shook the sleep from his limbs and stumbled into their bathroom, running water and grabbing his tooth brush and toothpaste from the holder. He rubbed at his goatee - it was due for a trim, anyways.

He just began to brush his teeth when he heard the alarm go off in the room beside him, but he kept brushing anyways.

He heard her stir, the sound of their shared duvet being pushed aside. Her footsteps are light, growing steadily louder, and soon the door pushed open as he rubbed shaving cream on his face. He'll never be able her sleepy face, from the first time they'd slept together up until now. Her hair disheveled and her teal eyes cloudy with sleep, she trudged past him to their sink. He allowed her to nudge him to the side before she all but dunked her head under the faucet.

"Morning," he said around his toothbrush.

"Morning," she said back, her voice thick with sleep.

And that would be the beginning of his routine. Now, to call it as such, he'd accept it – and maybe be a little proud of it, too.