Dedicated to everyone who looked at this and helped, it means a lot. And to everyone who likes my work and encourages me, seriously, it really helps.

This is my entry to the ShikaTema Summer Fest '11 (check it out and participate next year!) My prompt:

"I couldn't think of anything other than her and the components of her. For example, her red hair. But was I so primitive I let myself be bewitched by hair? I mean, really. Hair! It's just hair! Everyone has it! She puts it up, she lets it down. So what? And why did all the other parts of her have me wheezing with delight? I mean, who hasn't got a back, or a belly, or armpits? This whole finicky obsession serves to humiliate me even as I write it, sure, but I suppose it isn't that abnormal. That's what first love is all about. What happens is you meet a love object and immediately a hole inside you starts aching, the hole that is always there but you don't notice until someone comes along, plugs it up, and then runs away with the plug." - A Fraction of the Whole; Steve Toltz

Review, I'd like to see how people feel about it.

"Dangerous Games"

or

"Cigarettes"

The rain pelted the window. He had fallen into a daze with the tap, tap- but now, each drop had intensified into massive waves crashing upon the roof. He was broken, as if the icy rain itself had crashed upon his dry, cool forehead, out of reverie.

His head pounded, but not from the constant tremors, rather, the empty bottle of what had been whiskey sitting on the coffee table in front of him. He had never been one to drink, and though his father swore by it, alcohol had never done much for him.

Words poured through his mind, caressing every inch of his body. Words yelled in a lost time, ones that were just surfacing for the first time during daylight. It was as if they weren't satisfied possessing only his dreams- they wanted more.

I got over you.

It was a lie. He knew it.

A smoke was looking real good about now.

But instead, he got up from his perch on the couch long enough to grab another bottle before sitting back down, leaning his elbows on his knees, neck stiff. For all his gusto about not drinking, he was a hell of a heavy weight.

An hour dinged on the clock. One hour closer.

It wasn't his fault. It wasn't. It was Kankuro's. It was Konoha's. It was his father- it was everything they said.

Love played dangerous games with feelings. Games Shikamaru didn't know how to win.

The rain hit the roof harder; a crack of thunder.

They made love in the rain once: wet, cold, slick as he moved above her, inside her. It was the last week they were together- not the last time they slept together, but the last time they made love. "Stupid," he'd told her as she pulled him out from underneath his umbrella, but his complaints about getting soaked were stolen as she grabbed his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. And then another kiss. And then she was pressed down onto the flooded grass, scratching at his shirt.

The burn down his throat had long since numbed, but the images, though more blurred, remained imprinted on his line of sight, and so, he drank.

There was no telling why he fell in love with her. It wasn't like they ever got along. It wasn't as though they balanced one another out or held any of the same interests.

It wasn't anything usual or common. He didn't know what uncommon love was like, but that must have been them. There wasn't any other explanation.

He wasn't sure. What ever was so special about her in the first place? It wasn't like she was perfect. She was not the prettiest, nor the smartest, nor the most talented, nor the strongest, nor the superlative in any respect; she wasn't bad in any of those, in fact, she was rather great, but she wasn't the best.

He leaned in the doorway of the bedroom, crossing his arms and squinting at the figure in the hotel bed.

Her hair was splayed out across the pillow, long, blonde tresses shining as brightly as any piece of gold ever would. She was beautiful; there was no denying that. Her hair was electrifying, the first thing he had been attracted to. The only thing he had really been attracted to these days.

But this hair wasn't right. It wasn't as he wanted it. It was pretty and nice and long but not coarse or choppy, as he would have preferred it. It wasn't like Temari's. It was the first thing he had seen when he met the latter. Her hair, all pointy and idiotic. She was pretty hot, but would have been more if her hair were down.

But it was easier up, he had always supposed, as was his.

She wore hers down more now. It was longer, nicer. Not like the woman he was staring at now, but prettier than it had been. She seemed so much prettier than she had been.

Maybe that was because she wasn't with him anymore.

Maybe that made her happier, and thus, she was more beautiful. Either that or she just looked nicer now that she wasn't his.

But she couldn't be happier now. Really, she couldn't, he mused. He had mused, for months.

Of course she wasn't.

It never was a first love kind of crap. He couldn't ever fathom that something like that, like what they had, would ever go away as easily as it seemed to, for her.

That was what some had said to him. First love. You got over it. She filled up some kind of hole you'd never realized was missing.

But goddammit, there was never any sort of hole to fill. There was a hole to make and she used that to her advantage. She had torn and ripped and burned and ravaged a hole in him that, for all intents and purposes, would forever remain open.

"Could you zip me up?" Ikuyo asked intently, turning around and moving her long hair out of the way. The pale gray dress was soft, flimsy. Her back was long, tan- Suna-esque.

She was Kankuro's old girlfriend. Temari's friend. A bridesmaid.

Kankuro would kill him.

But he didn't give a fuck. He had been shot. He was shot right now. She was there, hand on his bicep. He was lonely. She was there. She was just there.

"Sure," his fingers brushed the skin of her lower back, dragging the zipper up, cinching the material around her torso. She let her hair fall back, over her shoulders, caressing.

"Thanks," she said, pale eyes as lost as his, "I have to go," she muttered, walking past him and over to where her purse sat on the couch. "The bride needs help getting ready." She walked over to the door, turning slightly and gazing at him. "I- Last night was… good."

He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I'll see you later," she said in parting with a slow smile before grabbing the knob and letting herself out.

He loved her. He knew that now. He knew it then too- but differently. Then, it was dangerous.

Now, it was just hurtful.

Her words still stung, almost a hundred days later. He knew he had hurt her. Everyone knew that. But he had never wanted to. That was why he had done it: because in every scenario his overly analytical brain concocted, she, they, were hurt so much more later on. He was protecting her. Why didn't she see that? Didn't she realize what game they were playing at?

He never wanted to hurt her.

She had knocked on his door (she had given back his key). It had been a bit over two years already. He was shocked to see her. Shocked when she explained her purpose. He hadn't even known she was involved with another man.

He hadn't touched another woman before then.

She had handed him the enclosed letter, her eyes silently asking him to reason through this.

But he just couldn't. Like a twig snapping with one blow, he started, "You can't do this, Temari."

Her controlled, peaceful façade dented.

"Excuse me?"

"I love you." Straight up. No implications. Solid truth.

A beat. A permanent crack in her molded shell, one, short syllable: "What?"

"You heard me, woman. You can't marry him. You love me."

As if he had been chipping away pieces of her resignation, another crack brought on another degree of anger, "We're over, it's been two years." She said as her voice struggled to repair the damage he'd already done.

"It's not over," he reached for her. His hands gripped her biceps, pulling her chest against his, breath mingling as he leaned in. They almost kissed, the first time since she'd stormed out of his apartment fifteen months prior, but she forced herself from his grip.

"You arrogant bastard! You left me!Remember? I got over you, finally, and now, you come off acting like this stuck up prick, like I'm the one who hurt you."

"I made a mistake. I thought it was too dangerous-" he began, but she interrupted him.

"Too dangerous? What, it'll be different now? Now, because you're ready this time, is that it?" There was a pause, as she tried to stop herself from letting out a sob. And when she looked at him, he could see the tears threatening to burn her eyes. In a choke, she let out the one sentence that had him up night after night in frustration and hatred: "You broke my heart."

She waited for a moment, giving him one last look, daring him to respond. But he was too petrified to answer so quickly, so with that, she turned around and walked out the door so she wouldn't cry- because Temari never cried.

He bit his tongue, waiting, no, hoping, for the blood to leak through his mouth. But if he did end up biting hard enough to break skin, his tongue was too numb to register the taste.

She was getting married.

Married-

To a man that he had met only a week ago, before the bachelor party. He was nice. Nicer than Shikamaru had hoped he'd be. And cute too. And all around perfect. And all around not Shikamaru. Their relationship made sense. It wasn't dangerous or wrong. It wasn't uncommon or unsecured.

It was good. And theirs, hers and Shikamaru's, it wasn't.

When they were together, she was rarely happy.

God, she was doing him a favor. She was forcing him to move on.

She was doing what he'd told her to do. She was finding a man with whom she could live happily-ever-after with, like he'd said.

"But I want to be with you."

She had said it softly, voice so quiet, it took him a moment to answer as he realized that she was no longer screaming. When she got quiet, it got bad.

Fuck. He was crying now. An escaped tear rolled over his nose.

She loved him.

Why was he being so dense?

He rubbed his neck, leaning over and gazing at the clock. Four hours until the wedding.

But he'd told her already. He'd told her that she was making the wrong choice. He made his intentions clear- and she hadn't come back to him. She hadn't stayed.

The rain was beginning to lessen.

Shikamaru laid his head back against the red couch, clenching his eyes shut.

Before recently, the last time he'd seen her, the night he had sucked it up and decided he would actually come to the wedding, was the night after she'd given him the invitation.

She had left before he'd awoken. And if he'd known, if he'd known she wasn't back for good, he'd never have fallen asleep.

She'd come crawling through his window, so unsuspectingly, he'd thought she was only a figment of his imagination.

He couldn't see her face, but the silhouette was so clearly Temari, that he'd had no doubt. And when she simply walked up to him and crawled into his lap, reaching right for what she wanted, he'd happily gone on without so much as an acknowledgment.

The sex hadn't been like that time in the rain; and it hadn't been like the last time they'd slept together either.

It was hard, but it wasn't quick- as it always had been. It was long, and it was loud. Her groans, moans, and later on whimpers, then screams- he'd come so hard, he had lost a good few minutes of his consciousness.

She'd muttered the only coherent word of the night right then, whispering in his ear while she played with his hair. "Shikamaru." He was still panting, head on her shoulder as she took incredibly deep breaths considering that all his weight was pressed on her body.

He had thought she was here to stay. That she had come back, that she had everything figured out: that she had forgiven him.

But then she had slipped out of bed sometime during the night, as silently as she was trained to do. And when he woke, her spot was cold.

He stood in front of the mirror, cigarette dangling from between his chapped lips. His tie felt too tight, constricting his neck, asphyxiation in the purest masochistical sense, but the pleasure from the pain was short lived. He was no good at this suicide business, though he'd hoped he might be.

No, instead he'd have to live through whatever shit happened to him.

And some shit had certainly happened to him.

So, instead of suffering more than he had to, he loosened the tie a bit, tucked in his crisp shirt, and buttoned his pants.

Taro, the groom, had made the attempt to befriend him this past week. Always asking Shikamaru to participate, choosing him as a partner in pre-wedding events that were uncalled for.

He had even tried to speak to him in private during the dinner rehearsal the previous night, which, after a more-than-reasonably-awkward conversation, Shikamaru had made-out with the woman that had, for the brief week they'd known one another, up-until he'd slept with her, that is, been his partner in crime: Ikuyo.

He'd liked Ikuyo. She was nice, fun, and in the same boat, well not quite –Kankuro wasn't planning on getting hitched- but close enough, to Shikamaru.

The drinking, the name-calling of every guest behind his/her back, the refusal to dance or make a speech- he had really enjoyed Ikuyo's company.

Of course, he'd fucked it all up. He always did.

"You sure you're okay?" Ino asked as they sat outside on the steps of the hall where the wedding was only a little over an hour from beginning. The ground was damp, the rain not lasting with the dry Suna weather.

"What do you mean?" Shikamaru asked with less conviction than he'd intended.

Ino began to sigh, but then stopped, glancing at him with a look that far surpassed sympathy. "You're my best friend, Shikamaru." She said softly, brushing a loose strand of hair back into place.

He shut his eyes, rubbing his temples. "Come on, Ino, it's been almost three years, I'm doing fine."

She gave a small laugh, leaning over and resting her head against his shoulder.

Shikamaru handed her the cigarette he had been drawing upon, and she put in her mouth, savoring the taste. She always hated smoking, especially now when she couldn't seem to do it without crying. Apparently, she still couldn't.

Throwing his arm around her and nestling his head atop hers, Shikamaru opened his eyes, refusing to cry, again. "I love you, Ino." He said, then softer: "thank-you."

Taro had spoken to him about Temari.

"I know this must be hard, but it is what's best. You were Temari's first love, and it's hard for her too. But I'm happy that you two were able to put aside your differences. You mean a lot to her and to her family."

Yeah, right.

"No hard feelings, 'kay man?"

"None," Shikamaru had said. But of course there were. There always were. And then Ikuyo, beautiful Ikuyo, was just… there.

"I know what you're going to say," she said, spotting him in the mirror.

He didn't answer, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at her with an unreadable look. Either that or she just didn't want to read it.

"Please," she said, "Don't." The tension in the room was palpable.

He sighed, rubbing his neck. "I'm not saying anything."

Temari spun around, eyes hard. "Nothing?" But there was a quirk in her tone.

His lips turned slightly, before forming into a line again. "You look beautiful," he said simply, with only a soft admiration, nothing revealing and nothing hidden.

"You look sharp," she countered.

"Fine, you could stand to show a little less cleavage."

"You could stand to actually straighten the tie."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Well, for one thing, you'd look at least a bit presentable."

He smirked for a moment and then looked around the room. "Where are all your people?"

"People?"

"Tenten, Ikuyo, Matsuri- people like that."

"Bridesmaids? I don't know. There are so many of them, they're bound to show up somewhere."

"I never knew you wanted such a big wedding."

"I didn't." Temari said too quickly. "But if you can find them, that'd be good. I need someone to help me with this veil."

He shrugged, "I can help you."

She laughed, "You reek of cigarettes, Nara. I can smell it from over here. No thank you."

He shrugged again, "Have it your way. I'll be outside on the steps if you need anything."

Choji sat with them now, passing the third cigarette between them around.

"You know," he said, "We can leave right now."

"Leave?" Shikamaru said, "And I thought it was just getting good."

"Cut the shit," Ino said, the first serious words spoken all day. "I don't want to see you like this."

"Like what?" Shikamaru shot back, "I'm brilliant. Just bloody fucking brilliant."

"She's making a mistake," Choji said simply. Both friends stopped and turned towards him.

It was something no one had been willing to say. Not aloud, at least.

"What?"

Choji just stared, taking a long drag before passing it back to Shikamaru. Shikamaru took it, leaning his elbows back on the stairs and licking his lips.

He had regretted it too many times, breaking up with her.

It had just seemed like the best thing at the time. But these games were dangerous and not meant to be played by two opponents who had no idea where the fucking rulebook went.

He had really loved her though. He had. And she knew that. And then, the rest was okay. If she married another man, had his children, shared his bed- it was okay.

Because what they'd had, what they'd shared was great. It was fucked up but it was beautiful. It was really beautiful.

And in the end, if that were all that they were meant to have, then he didn't regret it, he'd neverregret it.

"Nara!"

The first punch came, and then the second and Shikamaru wasn't defending himself.

"Stop!" Ino cried, trying to pry the two apart.

"You bastard!" Kankuro screamed, knuckles now stained with his opponent's blood as a crowd gathered. "You fucked my girlfriend!"

There were a few murmurs before a tall girl burst out of the surrounding people, clearly out of breath from having run. "You can't tell me who to sleep with!" Ikuyo snapped, "I'm not your girlfriend."

Finally, unable to resist his instincts, Shikamaru punched him back.

"Fuck!" Ikuyo said, "I am done with this, Kuro. I told you as a fucking courtesy. And so help me, if you don't stop this second-"

"What the hell is going on?" It was Temari this time, and at the sound of her voice, the two old allies fell apart. "Someone explain this, now."

There was silence for a few seconds before Choji came forward, having been witness to the whole event, his expression both confused and concerned.

"Calm down, Temari," he said, "This was a misunderstanding."

"What the fuck happened?" She screamed, unbalancing the silent, tension-filled afternoon.

Kankuro swallowed, "It appears," he said with slow, venomous words, "That that bastard has been up to some extracurricular activities lately."

Shikamaru groaned, rubbing his temples.

"What does that mean?"

Ikuyo took a breath, "Nothing. I am so sorry, Temari. This is not Shikamaru's fault. He… he- Kankuro is overreacting."

"I am not-"

"Shut up!" Ikuyo cut him off, turning and jabbing a finger into his chest. "We are not together, you idiot. You have no fucking right to hit someone just because you're jealous! If you want to talk about something, talk to me, but don't you dare-"

"Hey!" Ino said, "how about we go discuss this over-"

"Whoa, what's going on?" Taro arrived on the scene.

But before anyone could speak again, Temari stepped towards the center of the circle. "Wait. Jealous of what?"

Silence, again.

She kissed him first, in the library, while sorting books. It came as too much of a surprise. He was only seventeen.

They made out against the stacks; scratching and scraping until lips were bleeding and groins were all but on fire.

He asked her out after that, in a very awkward confrontation after a meeting. And then the date went badly. So badly, she had left the restaurant after throwing her drink at him. And he was so angry, scared he had messed up. They went out to eat all the time? Why couldn't he get it right on the night it actually counted?

But, he must have done something right. Because that night, in the rain, she had rang his bell, and he lost his virginity against his very own door.

He told her he loved her a few months later before a battle. He had then missed the beginning of it because she had no skill at keeping her hands to herself.

They had been together less than two years. In truth, they'd been broken up longer than they'd ever been together.

But it didn't matter. It had never mattered. It had always been her. It always would have been, even if she had married someone else.

He squeezed the rag a bit, a few drops of blood hitting the dirt. It had stopped bleeding by now, but the whole front of his white shirt was stained, the wetness even visible on his jacket. Shikamaru unbuttoned his collar, undoing his tie, and rubbing his neck.

"How's your nose?" Temari asked, sitting down beside him. She was only wearing a slip now, with a robe covering anything inappropriately showing.

"I'll manage," he grunted, resting down against the stairs of his hotel room. They were quiet for a few moments before he spoke. "How is everything?"

She sighed, leaning against the wall. "Well, the wedding is canceled."

"Sorry about that."

"Not your fault," she murmured, leaning back beside him and putting her hand over her eyes.

They stayed like that, silently beside each other for a while. Actually, it was the longest they had spent together in almost a year, and before that, two.

"Are you upset?" he asked after a half hour had passed.

She thought it over. "Not… upset, no."

He waited for her to expand, but all she said was, "I was great with Taro, you know."

Shikamaru considered her words for a moment, mulling them over, "I know."

"He says that I am too upset about you and Ikuyo to really 'be over it.'"

"I know."

Again, neither of them spoke as the rain began to dribble.

"It's been raining all week," Temari muttered, "I've never seen that before."

He didn't respond.

She turned to him, saying, "you know I'm not good at all this sentimental crap."

The corners of his lips quirked, "I know."

She also smiled, "Why did we ever break up?"

A small laugh, "That's a stupid question."

"We were never good, were we?"

He turned his head to look at her, "Oh, no. We were awful."

"Do you think," she asked slowly, "That we would… be better, now?"

He paused, but then shook his head. "Nothing's changed."

"You're only a kid."

"I'm twenty-two."

"You were seventeen."

"You never complained."

"It was never the worst factor."

He sighed, reaching into his lapel and pulling out another cigarette. "We were dangerous, Temari." He said, flicking his lighter.

She was silent, watching the sky as the thunderclouds grew, "I didn't mean to sneak into your room last year."

"I had a feeling."

She sighed, "We had great sex."

"We always had great sex."

"It's what I liked most about you."

"That's probably why Tsunade and Gaara would never condone us- you can't base a relationship on sex."

"Great sex. You can base anythingoff great sex."

He smiled, but then sobered, "It was so much more than that, Tem, our break-up."

She paused for a moment, continuing to stare up at the dribbling sky. "You hurt me."

"I know."

"I loved you."

"I know."

"It was always a game to you, wasn't it?"

He sighed, taking a drag. "I never knew how to win it."

She pulled the cigarette from his lips, putting it between her own. "I know," she imitated, eyes slanted. "But you didn't have to."

"I couldn't just play the game, Temari."

She took a deep inhale, speaking slowly as the smoke flew from her mouth, "Yes, you could."

They lay there for a while longer, until the rain began to fall harder and no cigarette could stay lit.

A/n: Again, thank you to everyone who looked at this and helped. Really, everything was beneficial. Thank you to sunaprincess7 for making this awesome contest. I think it's brilliant and hope it becomes an annual thing and more people participate.

In other news, I've created OC's for my last three one shots (although this one has someone for Temari too, they are usually Shikamaru's people just because having a love triangle is hard when I don't think he would go for anyone in the show save Temari) and I have to say, Ikuyo is without a doubt, my favorite. I feel like I will use her again, in some other story, just because I like her so much. In my mind, she is like the Sand-version of a mix between Sakura and Shikamaru, and she is now my favorite new character. So, tell me what you think about her, and if you'd like to see her in anything else.

Thanks you guys, and don't forget to review!

-Lollipop