He's Not Been One For Romance

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, or any manga for that matter.

A/N: This is in a new style I'm trying out. Please tell me if it's too repetitive, or uninteresting. Enjoy.

Neji has never really been one for romance, she's decided. Three minuscule moments in the insignificant lives of Neji and Tenten.

It was not romantic.

God, it was probably the opposite of romantic. There were no lovingly-placed rose petals surrounding her. No carefully planned moonlight walks. Not that she complained. Nothing out of the ordinary for her in this small, crowded apartment.

Oh, but it was so unordinary.

First of all, he was here. And no, she does not capitalize his name in her mind like some senseless fangirl. She merely sees him as she clunks down her equipment from her mission before heading into the kitchen like she always does. The brown-haired woman barely registers his presence she's so tired. If he was a real threat, she might have said something to him.

But she didn't.

Second of all, he was the first to talk to her. This was not as unordinary as the other reasons, seeing as he initiates conversation with her quite a bit. He once told her that she was his favorite person to talk to (igniting a foreign fire to her cheeks), and that she was probably the only normal one on their team. Yet as he stood there in the doorway to her tiny kitchenette, she couldn't help but feel overpowered in the slightest way. So when he acknowledges her being with a calm greeting, she nearly jumps. It's a low, husky voice that sounds really, really Neji.

Adult Neji.

Third being, he was half-clothed. This might have been somewhat romantic, if not lusty, if she hadn't been covered in dirt and blood (some of it hers, mostly not). It had been a hard A-rank mission in the Land of Stone. The kunoichi had just given her report to Tsunade, and she was definitely ready to take a nice shower and go to sleep. So she really hadn't anticipated Neji being shirtless in her doorframe, staring at her with a dusted look in his eyes. That must have been why she was blushing, though, because she'd seen him with just pants on at least once before in training. Yes, they'd kissed and gone out to dinner and even to the Spring festival together. They were a couple. It must have been at least 2 or 3 months. They just never...

Oh.

Oh god.

She recalls hoping it was going to be more special than this. Than her, stomping in that boyish way of hers into her apartment, slamming down her dirty, blood-stained, used weapons on the floor, and seeing him in all his perfection. He was waiting for her.

No, she didn't hesitate in her reply to his greeting. In all honesty she was much too tired to fumble with blushing and stuttering and pretending she didn't want him right then and there. She breathed a hello before stripping off her shoes and armor.

"I'm going to take a shower." she mumbled, slipping the pins out of her high buns mechanically.

Neji's look of smug amusement almost made her melt. Almost. If she had the energy to, she would have. But she didn't, so she merely continued undressing in her unceremonious manner before disappearing behind her bathroom door.

"You coming?" she asks, surprising herself. In her tone is almost a newfound playfulness. She's too exhausted though, and decides to give it more thought in the morning.

"Yeah." He's blushing as he enters her foggy, hot washroom.

So, no. It wasn't romantic. But it works for her.

It was not romantic.

God, it was probably the opposite of romantic. There were no loud, triumphant declarations of commitment. No calm, reassuring kisses. Not that she complained. Nothing out of the ordinary in this crowded military camp.

Oh, but it was so unordinary.

First of all, he was there in the tent with her. Both of their divisions had met up, and the leaders were discussing strategic tactics. They were somewhere in the Land of Fire, plotting their move upwards into the Land of Grass. So, being lovers (or whatever they were, because they were, above most, best friends), they decided it best to sit down somewhere and talk for what might be their last chance. Before, of course, going back into the brutality of war.

Second of all, she could sense this air around him. It hung like a wet cloth, and smelled of blood, ash, and damp earth. Not that she was one to associate with smells, but it appeared at though he was bothered. So as casually as she can muster (she has enough energy today to try and confuse herself with body language and tone), she asks what is on his mind.

Third, in some way connecting to the second, being that he wishes to discuss their "future". There are many things both odd and wrong with this.

You see, in a rare stroke of luck, tradition and practicality combine for a long-standing agreement that shinobi are not to talk about such things at a young age (their "ripe age" as most would dub it). One would assume their lives would be hard and troublesome. Too troublesome and dangerous that they would not have the time nor energy to discuss the future of their loved ones and themselves. The reason being as that they were never guaranteed a future in the first place.

They were supposed to die.

They were only 19. After almost a year of war (it would be inappropriate to say "a year of fighting", because that had gone on for much, much longer), they were only 19. They should have been older. They should have been able to see the world, like she talked about doing sometimes when they were alone. But they were 19.

How cruel was that, in the spite of war (the middle of war), he was to ask for her hand in marriage. And in such an unromantic, almost stoic way.

That was Neji though, and in all his seemingly empty looks she could decipher what many others lost in translation. He was in deep thought, as always, and was anxious. His eyes were squinted slightly in never-ending anxiety and worry. That maybe she'd deny him.

That made not being able to give him a proper answer hurt all the more. She could comfort herself, though, that it wasn't really a proper proposition in the first place.

The important question of his is followed by the immediate enter of Darui and the silence that follows. Soon later come the orders to break off from the group and go into deeper territory in Kusa and later back up into the Land of Waterfalls as backup for the Third Division.

She doesn't get up immediately. There's a barely-audible, shaky sigh that escapes her scarred lips. She quickly finds her lost strength (which may or may not have been quick, because she knows that trying to slow things down when he's around isn't working), and gets up.

She recalls having hoped it to be more special than this. More so than the two of them nonchalantly cleaning their weapons and chatting while waiting for orders. More so than two friends, regularly clothed, talking for the first time in a couple of weeks. Maybe with a ring.

But brown buns turn around and hug him lovingly, and scarred lips whisper a, "Yes." in his ears before tan legs run to catch up to the rest of her small army. In a way, some of her is glad she can't see his expression. Whatever it is.

So they march into fighting. And it begins again.

The end.

So no, it wasn't romantic. But it works for her.

It was not romantic.

God, it was probably the opposite of romantic. There were no delicately embroidered envelopes, sprinkled with red glitter. No joyously tied ribbons of pink that held together epic after romantic epic. Not that she complained. Nothing out of the ordinary in this quiet medic tent.

Oh, but it was so unordinary.

First of all, she was even there in the first place. She was a skilled kunoichi of the 5th division, and did not need her hand to be held, dammit. She'd been stabbed pretty badly, though, and was recovering after some private healing from Shizune (how she had time to see her specially blew the young woman's mind). Her arm was wrapped gingerly in some yellowed bandages. To her left lay an equally damaged Hyuuga Hiashi, who had been making brief conversation with her not moments ago. Now he sat chittering on with Akimichi Chouza, who was playing mailman and giving out letters and whatnot.

Second being, there was mail for her. It was a plain, brown package maybe 10 pounds in weight. Calloused hands yanked open the string with newfound curiosity, not bothering to search for a tag or return label that wasn't there. Inside, of all things, were weapons (this could be counted as another weird thing). They were shiny and pointy and looked like they had only been made weeks before. She marveled at them as many bedded kunoichi looked at the sack in her lap with envy (jealous of the paper, of course). They were NEW. She felt like a giddy schoolgirl as she twirled them in her fingers.

Third, completely unrelated, was that there were letters. They were wrinkled and torn in places, and some had things crossed out. There must have been 8 or 9, because as soon as she unbound them from the bottom of the box they flew every-which-way in a frenzy. Something within her gut stirred, more so than the usual curiosity, and she hurried to pick them up before nurses might come to read them before she got the chance to. So she gathered them up and shut them quickly in the cardboard pack.

When she found the courage to read the first letter (and put down the kunai), she slowly lifted the lid. Inside, there were tiny little notes that had been unrecognized before. The first was on the top, and was probably no bigger than the top of a fist. It read, in his beautiful print;

Tenten:

The weapons are straight from a blacksmith up here in Iwagakure. They're new and I thought you'd enjoy some kunai that aren't scratched and dull. I could only afford half a set with the money I have carried with me, but I figured something was better than nothing.

-Neji

A small smile tugged at her lips, glad that he was thinking of her. And glad that his personality had stayed in tact. Brown eyes looked affectionately at the kunai he was speaking of, before setting the clip of note back delicately next to them. She turned and slowly drew out another peice of paper he had written on. In much more hurried, nervous writing was scribbled something much less... himself.

Tenten:

I want to be with you so badly. We're heading out of Iwa this morning and I caught word you're leaving for the Land of Waterfalls. I hope to meet with you soon. I hope you're alive.

-Neji

That could have easily made her list of "things that were odd", and it should have. She knew that couldn't have been written over a week ago (she was injured during an ambush on the way to Taki), and mail usually about a week to deliver. The Hyuugas did have a way of making things happen, but...

Her thoughts continued to babble on and on as the day progressed. When night came to fall, she had read every single little note that her lover had set in that boring, battered little cube. Tears had stained her cheeks, smiles had stretched from ear to ear, and her eyebrows had left deep, angry marks above her eyes.

All together there were 42 letters. Or notes, or whatever you'd call them. Some were daily updates, a few were outright pleas to be with her (one even mentioning the impersonation of Hiashi), there was a poem or two, and a couple rather borderline-perverse and sexual descriptions. Most, however, were just random, unromantic and un-Neji things.

In the end she decided it could have been nice and lovey-dovey, but seeing as her future father-in-law was dying next to her and she had no idea if Neji was alive or dead or out fighting to the death, she concluded it wasn't.

So no, it wasn't romantic. But it works for her.