Naruto 1. Talk

_Author's Notes: The New York Society series never completely leaves me alone, even when I think everyone's been paired up happily. _

_If you don't know, the series began with a one-shot called "Seasonal Society" and exploded when I decided to build on the AU I made for that fic. The story is still up on FFN but will soon be undergoing a rewrite to better fit the other fics in the series. Each fic is designed to stand on its own, but you can get more insight on references made in each fic if you read some (or all) of the others. If I'm not doing a good job of being clear, and it's confusing, please let me know and I'll fix it!_

_Although the series properly began with Shikamaru and Temari meeting, they haven't managed to tie the knot despite being engaged since before many characters even met! And a lot of people have said they would like to see a story in which all of the main characters in the NYS series play a part. So this will not be just a ShikaTem story. There will be other big events of other characters moving their story along._

_Note 2: My apologies for mistakes to any actual New Yorkers reading this. I have never been to NYC but I've always tried hard to be as accurate as possible._

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto and am making no profit from this fan fiction.

**Life Choices**

Chapter One: Talk

By Nessie

"That could have gone better," Shikamaru said with narrowed eyes. He stowed his carry-on suitcase, then Neji's in the overhead compartment of the plane about to take off from Cleveland.

Neji gave a noncommittal grunt and stepped aside to allow Shikamaru the window seat, knowing his partner enjoyed viewing the clouds during the ascent. Flying coach wasn't his personal preference, but even the Hyuuga & Nara law firm was struggling in the current economic climate. He sat down and frowned at the idea of another several hours with his knees pressed up to the chair in front of him. "At least we set a precedent for cyber libel."

"High school teachers suing teens for slandering them in their blogs? I think the only precedent we set is what a good idea it'd be for Midwesterners to move to New York. They're bored to hell here." Shikamaru sniffed. Irritated, he added, "And my allergies are going haywire."

Shrugging, Neji stared straight ahead as the flight attendants performed the obligatory safety demonstration. He may not have been able to think of ten different ways to survive a crash like Shikamaru, but he _was_ decidedly allergy-free. "You can buy some Kleenex when we get to LaGuardia."

"No, I can't." The ponytailed man flicked a finger at his earring impatiently as the plane rolled forward. "I haven't been to Temari's new play yet. I was supposed to go to the Sunday matinee, but we had to come here, and now I have to go straight from the airport to the theater. It'll be a miracle if I make it before intermission."

"She's doing another show? I thought she was going to take time off for the wedding."

Shikamaru avoided Neji's slightly tilted head and raised eyebrow. Those pale eyes of his would inquire just enough to annoy him further. "She said if I'm not going to stop taking cases, she isn't going to stop taking roles." He couldn't keep the sourness out of his voice and turned his head to watch the ground fall away at the end of the runway.

"You don't mind her acting, do you?"

"Of course not; we might not have met if…" Actually, there had been several factors involved in the circumstances of Shikamaru and Temari's meeting, and while he didn't necessarily believe in destiny, he had a healthy respect for an unlikely coincidence. "It's just that it's been years. We've been keeping each other waiting since before you and Tenten met."

"Not quite," his friend refuted.

Neji and Tenten had met on the same day Shikamaru had proposed to Temari; those two were about to celebrate their second anniversary, and here was Shikamaru, affianced but still unwed.

As though to emphasize Shikamaru's inner musings, Neji folded his arms. The gold band on his left hand glinted mockingly at Shikamaru as he leaned back the seat.

"What do you think I should do?" asked Shikamaru, though he could predict his partner's answer.

"Personally, I'd rather you didn't stop taking cases. But either you marry Temari or you make sure your friend Ino turns up at more parties, because it's obvious she's tired of being the only single woman in the group." Neji's expression turned even more serious than usual. "Just remember something."

"What?"

"You're a private man, but you've lived with Temari for almost as long as we've had the firm. There has to be a reason for that."

Shikamaru contemplated that point. Neji wasn't prone to giving counsel that wasn't law-related, and the advice was admittedly resonating.

"Remember something else, too." Neji settled into his seat as comfortably as he could and shut his eyes. "Order me a hot tea when they bring out drinks."

Shikamaru fought down a smile as he looked out the window. It had been a dreary day in Ohio, wet and gray and humid. As the airplane rose over the clouds, though, sunshine fell on his face, and there were only blue skies outside.

* * *

Sakura glanced at her cell phone, ascertaining that the ringer was turned off but keeping the screen in clear view next to her coffee mug on the table. She didn't want to be rude, but if the hospital needed her, she had to be available. At least for the moment, she wasn't a doctor but simply Sakura Haruno-Uchiha: a woman happy to attend a brunch with friends where she could wear a dress instead of a white coat and her new high heels, which were, in her opinion, fabulous.

Not as fabulous as Ino's, whose shoes were five inches high, bright lavender, and probably paid for by the fashion company whose spring photo shoot featured the tall, blond supermodel. The rest of Ino's outfit was equally eye-catching, edgy and modern. It made a sharp but pleasant contrast with Hinata's clothes, a classic blouse and skirt set improved by the dark-haired woman's natural loveliness.

Sakura cast a glance at the one remaining chair awaiting its occupant. The four women were supposed to meet at Uzumaki's at 10:30, and time was steadily nearing eleven. Ino had to be downtown in an hour, and Sakura's own shift began in an hour. Hinata had a consultation at some point for a shelter that was undergoing renovation…

A too-familiar "sorry" tore across the air of the dining room, reaching the three women's ears even over the noise of the artificial waterfall Hinata had chosen when decorating the venue. Tenten Hyuuga dropped into her chair seconds later, a little harried, but otherwise nicely dressed in straight-legged khakis, leather sandals, and a button-up silk shirt.

"Sorry!" the brunette repeated with heart. She reached up to tuck strands fallen from her double-bun hairdo behind her ears, where a pair of diamond studs glittered. "Really, I would've made it on time today, except Neji got home kind of late last night."

Ino's grin was positively catlike. "I bet he missed you after being gone for a _whole_ _week_. Kept you up, did he?" Tenten only smiled broadly, but Hinata's ears flashed a bright shade of pink.

Sakura knew to intercept before the teasing could go any further and potentially result in their most reserved friend passing out; that kind of blood pressure just wasn't good for anyone. "Come on, Ino. That's Hinata's cousin you're making insinuations about."

"You're right," Ino agreed. Her eyes drifted to the doors leading to the restaurant's kitchen and promptly lit. "Why should I embarrass her with her cousin's nighttime activities when her husband's right here? Tell the truth, Naruto," she continued as an apron-clad restaurateur strolled from the kitchen entrance to their table. "How is it between you and Hinata in the middle of a workweek?"

Naruto's grin outshone hers as he paused beside Hinata's chair and pulled out a small notepad and pen. "Wellll," he drawled with a wink at his spouse, "we've gotta be better than you and Kiba."

Not at all inclined to be a participant in this discussion, Hinata began gesturing frantically for him to stop talking. Ino's eyebrows arched. "How do you figure? Ever since I moved back to New York, we've have a _lot_ of time to ourselves," challenged the model.

"Still, you both have jobs that could interrupt you any second. Me and Hinata, we're our own bosses. So we got anytime." A competitive glow in his eyes, Naruto waved a hand that included the entire space of his restaurant. "And we got _anywhere_."

Hinata's face turned puce. "_Naruto_," she hissed. Sakura didn't know who to feel more sorry for, Naruto's wife for being mortified or her best friend for being outsmarted. Tenten obviously did not share her torn allegiance as she laughed heartily at both scenarios.

With the restaurant busy and all of his servers preoccupied, Naruto himself took their breakfast orders and refilled their coffee. He leaned over and dropped a brisk kiss on top of Hinata's head. At first Hinata tried to maintain her upset demeanor, but the gentle affection eased her tension and she showed him a smile before he returned to the kitchen.

Sakura thought it exceptionally sweet, considering she was married to the world's most privately affectionate man. Sometimes it seemed Sasuke's true passion would only emerge if they were several stories up with the blinds closed. Which would explain why he had frequently visited her office on the top floor of Manhattan General, where she worked as a resident surgeon although she was technically the on-call medical consultant for the New York state government. Those visits only happened when Sasuke was in the best of moods. When his political work wasn't going well, he tended to adopt a fatalistic attitude about the world. When it was smooth sailing, he liked to be with Sakura and see firsthand that the world was and always would be a place of possibility.

Their circle of friends, for example, was intertwined through coincidence and chance: she and Sasuke had met because of Tsunade, her mentor. Sasuke and Naruto had become part-friends, part-rivals years ago. Sakura had been friends with Ino since kindergarten; Ino's father was a friend of NYPD's Captain Asuma Sarutobi, whose father Sasuke had once worked for and through whom Ino had met her boyfriend, Kiba. Sakura had met Tenten while dating Lee in college; Lee knew Kakashi Hatake, a friend of Tsunade's. Ino was friends with Shikamaru, who was Neji's partner and Chouji's best friend; Naruto was Chouji's former coworker, now his boss and Hinata's husband; Hinata was Neji's cousin; Hinata had worked with Lee and met Tenten through him…

It was, Sakura reflected, enough to make her dizzy.

"Where's Temari?" asked Tenten, and the mention of the actress caused Sakura inward stress as she hadn't even added Shikamaru's fiancée to the list of Her People. "I thought she was coming this morning?" she went on, with the tone of one hoping she wasn't the last to arrive.

Hinata lowered her coffee to tell her. "There was some trouble with the sound system in last night's performance. She had to go to the theater today for…I believe it's called a tech rehearsal?"

"Okay," Ino said loudly and leaned in with intent, only to have to lean back again as Naruto brought out her bowl of fruit and yogurt. "Can we please have this conversation? What is _up _with those two?"

"Who?" asked Naruto, having only heard the last question.

"Temari and Shikamaru," Hinata told him, helping to place her friends' plates on the table.

"Oh." He abruptly turned on his heel and went off again, clearly not wanting to be party to any conspiracy.

"You're his friend," Tenten said to Ino. "Don't you know what their deal is?"

"No. Has Neji said anything to you?"

"No."

Tenten and Ino sat in momentary frustration at the definite lack of information.

"They're engaged," Sakura said. "What other deal is there?"

"They've been engaged for over two years," snapped Ino unheatedly. "And they dated for a year before that. I used to think it was a schedule thing…"

"Lawyers _are _very busy," Tenten pointed out. "If my schedule was any less flexible, I'm not sure Neji and I would be married. We just wouldn't see each other."

"But they live together," Hinata reminded all of them. "That is…_I _wouldn't have been able to move in with Naruto before I married him but—"

Tenten chuckled dryly at this, cutting a waffle into perfectly even squares. "That's because your father's a Nazi."

"So it's not that they aren't living together well, is it?" Sakura chewed thoughtfully on her ham and cheese omelet. "Or…is it that? Has Temari said anything?"

Ino nodded vigorously. "It always comes back to the sex life. I swear to God."

But although the four women kept in touch regularly with her, none of them could explains why the actress was still Temari Sands instead of Temari Nara.

"She's keeping her name. It makes the Playbills less confusing," Hinata offered, trying to be helpful.

The detail was highly unsatisfying.

Someone's cell phone chirped, and each woman reached for hers on reflex. Sakura saw a name that wasn't work-related light up her screen. Normally, she wouldn't have answered since she was busy. This person, however, would not like being ignored.

Answering the call, "Tsunade?" she said.

"Sakura. I can't speak long, but there's something you ought to know about before it hits the news."

"What's up?" asked Ino when Sakura froze with tension. She lowered the cell phone the to table, so distracted that it landed on top of her remaining eggs.

"It's the…it's Mayor Sarutobi," Sakura told them all, each word dropping like a stone from her lips. "He's dead."

_To Be Continued_

_One last note and then I'll shut up. Being a student and with the last stretch of school year and finals coming up, I've no idea if I'll have that much time to update this very quickly. But I will be working on it and will of course finish it. It probably won't be that many chapters, so I want it all to be good. Thanks for being here!_


	2. Hurt

_Author's Notes: Chapter two! Several vignette-type scenes here. It's fun to explore these characters more even after they've been set up. More action later!_

Disclaimer**: **I do not own Naruto and am making no profit from this fan fiction.

**Life Choices**

Chapter Two: Hurt

By Nessie

Sasuke Uchiha jabbed the power button on the remote, then threw it onto the bed, where it bounced once before settling. "…have learned that roughly forty percent of the city's total population paid their respects to the late Yushiro Sarutobi. Until his death last Thursday morning, Mr. Sarutobi held the office of New York City mayor for a consecutive seven years. The number of those in attendance at his memorial service may reflect the Republican's approval rating, which in recent polls had been dwindling. Local medical experts say—"

The TV was suddenly shut off, and before Sasuke could turn, a cool hand was smoothing the back of his neck. He did not lose his tension even when the touch was replaced with a light kiss.

"Medical experts say," Sakura continued in the silence of their bedroom, "that he was simply old. Age and stress will get us all, eventually."

Sasuke turned to face her. His wife had climbed onto the bed to hold from behind, not even thinking to remove her high heels or conservative black dress beforehand. "Casual alcoholism didn't do him any favors, either."

Sakura winced, green eyes flashing in the low light of a bedside lamp. "I was trying to be respectful. He brought us together, really. You know?"

Of course Sasuke knew. Though it was years since he had worked for Yushiro Sarutobi in the capacity of bodyguard, the single assassination attempt made during his employment had led him to meet the woman who was, whether he showed it adequately or not, the love of his life. And the mayor had inspired him to discover politics for himself. Sasuke had a lot to be grateful for, and he wasn't even a Republican. Maybe it was the fact that Sarutobi had died from natural causes – not bipartisan hostility – that left him so bothered.

In one fluid movement, he knelt on the bed, pushing Sakura down and beneath him. Saying nothing, she shifted for comfort, and her hair was dragged partway out of her upheld style. He reached down to free it completely, ran his fingers through the strands, and pressed his face into her throat to inhale the scent. She wore the perfume she had bought in Florence, on their honeymoon, and underneath that was a more vital tone. To Sasuke, she smelled of life.

Sakura welcomed his weight as he clung to her. "It's all right," she murmured, rubbing his back. "Mayor Sarutobi lived the way he chose. If he didn't want the job and all that came with it, he wouldn't have run again for a second term. Sasuke, are you listening to me?"

His answer was a long, deep kiss that started a shared throb between them. His hands trailed heat down her arms, then her legs as he took off her shoes. Sakura stopped him before he found the zipper of her dress. Cradling his face between her surgeon's hands, she said, "I love you."

Sasuke went still, his dark eyes boring into hers. There was so much energy inside of him that needed to be purged, energy he wanted to transfer from himself to her. Controlling the urge, he instead gathered her against him and held her as she had done for him.

Sakura sighed, her head upon his shoulder. She looked perfectly content like this. He hoped that his actions honored her in a way he couldn't manage with his voice. Though it wasn't often that he returned the _words_ she said to him every day, Sasuke told her every second.

* * *

The master bedroom of a reasonably-sized Upper Westside apartment was pitch black, but through the dark, two people's breath mingled together. Temari sat up first, her body coated in cooling sweat. Shikamaru followed suit, his forehead resting against her temple.

"That was hard," he admitted at last.

Temari took a deep breath; she had been waiting for him to open up about the day ever since they had left the funeral. But he had been quiet throughout the taxi ride home, and upon entering the apartment he had something other than discussion in mind. Her body was still tingling from it.

"Seeing Asuma?" she ventured. She knew her fiancée was close with the NYPD chief. She knew Asuma was a family friend of Ino Yamanaka, and that Shikamaru had met the man through her. They had an uncanny meeting of minds and had been close friends since, getting together for chess in Central Park as often as possible despite their irregular schedules. It made her smile; whatever else Shikamaru might be lazy about, he was good at holding onto ties with those he liked. She felt him nod in affirmation to her question.

"I met his dad in passing just one time," he continued, "and I could tell they weren't on good terms right away. I think it got better after Kurenai became pregnant. Because today, his face…"

The dark made it easier for Temari to remember how Asuma had looked, standing beside the casket with his pregnant girlfriend (and the late mayor's secretary) seated in a folding chair at his side. Kurei had been crying, continuously dabbing a handkerchief at her face with one hand, pressing the other hand to her protruding belly. Asuma had borne a tide of emotion with a stony expression. Temari often saw her brother Gaara do the same thing.

She wished she could see Shikamaru's face right now, but when she reached for the light, he caught her hand.

"Do you mind if—"

"A little," she said, habitually asserting herself. More softly, she added, "But okay. Just…talk to me. Will you talk to me?"

He was silent at first. Then: "The other day, when Neji and I were flying back…I talked to him about us."

She hadn't been expecting that, and stiffened with indignant surprise. "_Neji _brought up our relationship?"

"No."

Temari waited. When it seemed he wasn't going to elaborate, the actress said, "What did you tell him? Baby?"

"I told him I didn't know what to do. This fight we've been having – the wedding, work, all of it – it's been this one big fight. Hasn't it?"

Tense as the conversation was, Shikamaru kept his grip on her light. Temari, however, pressed her fingers into his chest out of nerves typically reserved for auditions and opening preview performances. "I wouldn't call it a fight," she disagreed, forcefully injected her usual playfulness into her voice. It came off as fake and she knew it. "A struggle, maybe…"

"Why are we struggling?"

She turned to trap his waist between her knees, pressing as close to him as she could until she felt the hardness of his earring touch her nose. It was growing colder every moment, and he wasn't helping. She wished they would go back to making love. But _she _had asked him to talk. "I don't know," she whispered. She was a good actress, high on the list for a Tony Award nomination this year, but now she was unable to pretend.

He took her left hand, felt the ring he had put there himself. "We want to get married, don't we?"

Temari's mouth went dry even as, absurdly, her eyes filled with tears. She rarely became this emotional unless it was onstage, but every word he said was so…

"Why are you even asking that?" she demanded, feeling anger rise up out of the hurt. "God, I mean…if we didn't want it, you wouldn't have asked me. I wouldn't have said yes."

"Then why aren't…Temari?"

She disentangled from him as quickly as she had neared him. The bed sheet was on the floor; grabbing it and lying down on her side, she faced away from him. She had let her understudy go in for her for both performances today, so she could spend her Saturday with Shikamaru, being there for him while he was there for his friend. And all he could say now was that it wasn't enough.

"Temari, are you crying?" His voice held an audible layer of incredulousness.

"It's Sunday tomorrow. I have a matinee," she told him in clipped tones undermined by the lump in her throat.

"I…I know." His fingertips met her forehead, where he brushed back her bangs and secretly felt the lines over her eyes. "Tem. What's going on? You're mad at me."

"I just need to go to sleep, Shikamaru." Temari remained motionless, unresponsive to each of his light touches until he resigned himself to the fact that nothing he did would move her. Following her lead, he lay down with his back to hers and, after minutes Temari spent listening to his breathing grow more and more even, fell asleep

Much later, Temari did the same.

* * *

Asuma felt oddly mellow the morning after he buried his father. Kurenai's eyes were red upon waking, but she fastidiously dressed, ate breakfast, and asked him to drive her to City Hall. She wouldn't go on pregnancy leave, she insisted, until she was sure the Public Advocate was completely apprised of everything Yushiro Sarutobi had concerned himself until last Thursday. Although she complained of back pain daily in her third trimester, the only thing Asuma could find in her eyes was endless determination to do her job and, for a second as she stepped out of the car, sympathy.

It was Kurenai who had first discovered the mayor was dead; she had shown up at his office that morning only to find he hadn't arrived. A call to her boss's cell phone had been ineffectual; a call to the mayor's bodyguard, Suigetsu, had set the day in motion. Ever since, she had barely rested, unable to properly grieve until the funeral.

As for Asuma, he found himself driving to the station with in abnormally blank mind. The bustle in the reception area wasn't enough to snap him out of it. He was too accustomed to the abuse shouted by solicitors, the phones that rang with new emergences every minute, the computers and copiers whirring away. None of it could hold his attention.

After an hour of getting nothing accomplished, he wandered into an empty interrogation room. He sat facing the two-way mirror and felt entirely disconnected from the reflection in the glass.

He had resented his father for most of his life, ever since his mother passed away from leukemia when he was fourteen. In the throes of adolescence, Asuma couldn't understand why his father's response to the death of his wife was to charge into his work as a City Councilman, to fight every issue except for the one living in his home. By the time Asuma had left for college, Yushiro was too busy overseeing city government functions to take notice. After Asuma had earned his criminal justice degree and began police training in Queens, his father had a campaign to run for City Comptroller. By then they were hardly on speaking terms.

Nothing he did ever changed that, and nothing Yushiro did could have made Asuma care. He was promoted from street cop to captain of the investigation unit in less than ten years. Finally becoming the chief of the NYPD without even a word of assistance from his father had, he often thought, been all the rebellion needed to make himself feel better. But then he had met Kurenai as a direct result of his father being elected mayor, and Kurenai had gotten pregnant with his child…

Asuma balanced his elbows atop the table in the interrogation room and dropped his chin onto his joined hands. Really, he and his father had been working toward the same goal for years: a better, safer, New York City. In some ways, they had each succeeded on their own, but never together. It made him appreciate the old man all of a sudden. They'd made each others jobs easier even while their relationship became more difficult.

Now his dad was dead, and all Asuma could think about was that his child would never meet his or her grandparents.

Releasing a long-held breath, he dug into his pocket for a cigarette. He had just flicked the wheel when the door to the interrogation room opened.

"Chief," Kiba greeted him tersely. He stepped inside without invitation, his footsteps echoed doubly by his four-legged partner. The big police dog called Akamaru and his master, Officer Inuzuka, had brought in more criminals in their last two years on the force than most state troopers did throughout their careers. Asuma had grown fond of them both, enough so that he didn't mind when Kiba intruded.

"I thought you might need this," Kiba said, setting down a steaming cup of black coffee and an empty ashtray. "Just so you know, the commissioner wants to see you today, he's got a case. He probably won't be here for an hour or two though, so just take your time."

The younger policeman started out, apparently not expecting the chief to say anything. When Asuma called his name, he half-tripped over Akamaru. Looking back, his eyes were anticipating as his gaze met Asuma's.

"Kiba…are you still seeing Ino Yamanaka?"

Kiba couldn't hide how taken aback he was at the question. Akamaru licked his hand out of pity. Asuma had been the one to introduce him to his current girlfriend and knew very well what their relationship status was. "Yeah, Chief. Uh…almost a year now."

Asuma lit his cigarette with unhurried movements. "Make her happy, huh? Fight all you want…and I'm sure you do…but don't do anything that will make her choose to hurt you. All right?"

Confusion practically radiated from him, but Kiba nodded in understanding. "Of course. I mean – she's great. All she's done is good for me. She's changed my life."

A series of smoke rings treaded the air between them. "Mmhm," Asuma intoned, his mind somewhere far away. "I know how that is."

Kiba and Akamaru left, and it was just Asuma with the mirror, the ashtray, the coffee, and himself. Kind of crowded, in his opinion. He thought about his father. He thought about Kurenai. He thought about his kid on the way.

Crushing the end of the cigarette into the small mound of ashes he'd made, he picked up the coffee and pocketed his lighter. He went into the hall and the rush of sound filled his ears. There was work to be done.

Across Manhattan, in the Vivian Beaumont Theatre, Temari Sands stood on a lightless stage that reminded her too much of the night before. Shikamaru's questions rang through her mind. Forcing them into silence, she allowed her role to possess her as the lights came up. Now, she was no one's fiancée. As applause met her ears, she turned to her costar and began to tell him, and the audience, all about her other problems.

_To Be Continued_


	3. Sustenance

_Author's Notes: Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews! Many of you have provided great insight into this version of the characters. I love reading your opinions. This chapter is less angst-ridden and a bit longer. Oddly, it was after I wrote the title that I realized there's so much food mentioned, for some reason. _

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto and am making no profit from this fan fiction.

**Life Choices**

Chapter Three: Sustenance

By NessieGG

Filtered through fresh spring leaves, the early afternoon light in Central Park bore a green tint. Every blade of grass sparkled from the wet of that morning's spring shower. Young students just out of school for the day sprinted through it, just off the edge of the pavement around Bethesda Fountain while parents looked on in exasperation at their children's once-white shoes growing steadily more stained.

Temari dropped her wallet back into her purse and lifted a plastic spoon to dig into a cup of strawberry yogurt just purchased from a Park vendor. Beside her, Tenten Hyuuga was enthusiastically lapping at a chocolate-and-vanilla-twist ice cream cone. Temari stared wistfully at both the rich treat and the pair of rings on the hand that held it.

Tenten paused, and apology filled her face. "Sorry," she said after a hurried swallow. "If I'd known you were counting calories, I'd have joined you on the yogurt."

"It's okay, it's just this show. I have to wear this spandex costume for a scene, and everything I eat goes right to my hips." Temari grinned. "Sometimes I audition for period shows just so I can wear a corset and not worry about my diet."

Tenten laughed as they walked around the fountain in a circle. "That reminds me, we've been meaning to come see your play."

"Don't feel obligated."

"No, it's just only the last few years I've been able to afford a ticket. I've never been all that interested in theatre," the arms consultant added sheepishly. "But it's different if someone you know is acting. My job's just completely unrelated, and it can be hard to find something Neji's interested in."

Trying to imagine Neji at a comedy or musical – his tie perfectly straight, his pale eyes taking in every motion and sung note with detached criticism – made Temari grin. She glanced at the ball-busting attorney's wife. Wearing flat sandals, a sun dress and a smile, Tenten looked comfortable enough, but there was a noticeable question in her eyes.

Temari didn't blame her for wondering why she had called her to go to Central Park. Despite the fact that her boyfriend and Tenten's husband worked closely together, the two women had never interacted much. They sometimes passed each other at the Hyuuga & Nara offices, and they were usually at the same party or dinner when their friends got together, but conflicting schedules had generally prevented them from getting to know each other better. It was a recurring problem in Temari's life. Tenten was a nice woman, though, and talking to her was easy.

"There's something I need to ask you, Tenten."

Tenten was all ears and big brown eyes that hung on her expectantly. "What's up?"

"Has…" Embarrassed, Temari chuckled. "This may sound – strange, but…has Neji said something to you about Shikamaru? And me?"

Tenten was no actress, and it showed on her face how taken aback she was. "What do you mean? Like…personally?"

"Yes. I guess. I don't…I don't really..." Letting her spoon sink into her yogurt, Temari tilted her head back and groaned. "I don't know what I expect you to tell me. It's just, Shikamaru's been closed off lately. I know there's something he wants to say to me that he just can't, for whatever reason. All I know is he and Neji had a talk and ever since the mayor died, he's been a brick wall."

Tenten winced in sympathy. "Neji said he and Asuma Sarutobi are good friends. But he doesn't tell me anything he and Shikamaru talk about. He's quite the wall himself. I guess it's what makes them good lawyers."

"Yeah." Disappointed, Temari took a big spoonful of yogurt.

After a pause, Tenten said, "Well, what about you? How are you feeling about the wedding?"

The Broadway actress snorted. "What wedding? Our engagement's starting to seem like the end of the process for us. I know that sounds unromantic."

"No, you're right," agreed Tenten. "It _is _a process. I could tell you horror stories from early in my relationship with Neji, even from after we got married. Or from last week!" Tenten's jaw grew tight, supposedly at the memory of some recent spat she'd had with her husband, but just as quickly she relaxed again. "But everyone goes through it. You have to, I think. If it was just sunshine and roses between two people all the time, they would just snap."

Temari considered this. What Tenten was saying made sense. She and Shikamaru had taken to arguing naturally, as quickly as the first time he'd taken her on their first date. (Temari still maintained that 11 A.M. was too late to go to Balthazar's in SoHo, because everything was chaotic, and Shikamaru should be able to anticipate this, but he was so lazy!) Even Naruto and Hinata displayed moments of awkward disagreement, and they were probably the most stable couple in their whole group.

"The thing about Neji," Tenten went on, "is that he's proud, and sometimes he completely fails to understand me, and he can be a real killjoy…" Another smile overtook her face, this one soft and connected to the fog in her eyes. "But he's also the most inspirational person I've ever know. He's become willing to change since we got together. Now he owns his mistakes – all of them – big or small. And he's always, always on my side."

Temari raised her eyes from her yogurt to Tenten's. The younger woman was already watching her. "And?" she said, not sure what she was asking.

"And," Tenten answered, "that's how I know he loves me. And how I know I love him. Because I want to change too, I want to be better for him. For us."

No longer hungry, Temari pitched her remaining yogurt in a trashcan as they passed by it. "Shikamaru is…like that. I mean, I think he is. We've been together for so long and in this – this stasis. He asked me why, but I just can't—"

"It's okay, it's okay," Tenten rushed in. "You don't have to work it all out right this moment. Maybe you haven't been able to get the right time for a wedding, but surely you can get an hour to talk. Maybe you can work together on whatever it is that's keeping you where you are." Throwing away the remains of her own snack, she took Temari's hand in a comforting gesture; her fingers were moist where she had failed to clean them with her napkin.

It made the actress feel as though she was a kid again, a little girl with a companion as close and carefree as those who played in the grass. But her concern was adult in nature. And nostalgia wasn't what she needed. If she and Shikamaru were going to make it, they had to move past today's problem. They needed to find their future.

Smirking at Tenten, Temari said, "Is this the kind of talk you use on Second Amendment protestors? You must be a big hit with the conservatives."

"Oh yeah." Her newest friend shrugged, admitting, "Everyone but Neji's uncle."

* * *

Although handsomely paid by Naruto, Chouji Akimichi was a man of modest tastes. His apartment was so small that Ino Yamanaka could fit four of them into her Upper East Side condo. His living room did double-duty as his bedroom, with an orange pull-out sofa that clashed with the rest of his bargain bin furniture. All of this could be ignored, however, when one took in the bleeding-edge kitchen that dominated most of the space.

Shikamaru reclined in his chair at Chouji's four-person dining table, his head angled sideways in thought. It had taken him by surprise that Temari had taken off from tonight's show in order to rest her voice. More surprising than that was her decision to spend the evening out at dinner and a movie with Tenten Hyuuga, who, as far as he had been aware, was only an acquaintance by way of her marriage to his law partner. Puzzled, he had called Neji at the office. Neji had informed him that a) Tenten was indeed indulging in a girl's night out with Temari, b) Shikamaru should know better than to second-guess his fiancée's activities, and c) should not call him when he was elbow deep in plaintiff's statements.

Being Neji, all of these things were accurate, and Shikamaru felt a twinge of guilt at the second part. Temari had a wild streak, but she had never give him any reason to distrust her. Perplexed though he was, her sudden absence in addition to his early close at Hyuuga & Nara had given him the time to meet up with his oldest friends for a dinner of his own. (Neji could fend for himself.)

Ino was on post-runway vacation, and Kiba was holed up at the precinct. Chouji had every other Thursday off at Uzumaki's, and it was one such Thursday. Happily single, he was delighted to find a rare melding of schedules with his oldest friends and insisted on cooking for them at home. Ino hadn't seen his apartment and, apart from an initial remark on his apparently hideous curtains ("I'm about to call Hinata and have her burn them, seriously"), she had been very well behaved.

"Just go easy on the calories, Chouji," she was telling him as Shikamaru broke free from his reverie. "Just because I don't have a photo shoot for a couple weeks doesn't mean I want to run off this dinner the whole time."

"No trans fats," the chef promised her from his place in front of the stove. Cut and mixed vegetables were boiling away as he stirred the sauce he planned to drizzle onto them. Below the stovetop, inside the oven, an entrée of prime rib baked to perfection. He checked on the food frequently through the oven door window, like a parent worried over an accident-prone toddler.

Feeling testy, Shikamaru didn't resist a barb toward his high-maintenance friend. "Usually you and Kiba are active enough for it not to be a problem. Having some trouble, Ino?"

"Hardly," she snapped, half-instinctively. The impending rant died in her throat, replaced by sincerity. "Hey, Shikamaru. What's going on with you?"

"What?"

Ino planted her hands and leaned across the table, making sure she had his attention. "I'm going to be straight with you. Okay? Because I think – you tell me – but I think wondering about it ourselves is crap. It just needs to be said."

"_What _does, Ino?"

"You and Temari. Everyone keeps asking me what's wrong, why you're still legally single. It's driving me nuts!" Blue eyes glittering, the model took their open bottle of wine and poured a liberal second helping into Shikamaru's glass.

"Easy," Chouji admonished her. "Save some for the meal, it's got to blend on the palate with the—"

"Shush, Chouji, I'm being serious." Ino gave him a hard stare.

Chouji turned back to the stove, glancing behind him balefully. "Me too," he mumbled.

Ino tapped Shikamaru hard on the head. "I mean it. All the questions just keep on coming. Do you know what kind of an inconvenience that is?"

This was the downside to Ino's move back to New York City. At least when she was living on the west coast, her interrogations were more easily avoided. Shikamaru drank from the wineglass, stalling for time. "Honestly, Ino? I've got no idea what to tell you."

Ino considered this in momentary silence as the sizzling and scent of prime rib coming out of the stove filled the air. "That can't be the truth," she concluded after her inward debate. "I ask you what's going on with you and your fiancée, and you don't have anything to say? Damn, I've been psyching myself up all night to hear about some monster fight you two had."

"We sort of fought," the attorney admitted. "But there was nothing monstrous. It was very civil."

"Give me something," she begged. "All I know is that you've been engaged for forever. You even have a joint checking account with Temari, but you're not married."

He shrugged noncommittally. "Then you know as much as me."

Chouji brought plates heaped with four-star cuisine, setting them down for his friends and himself. "Back off, Ino. Maybe they're just taking their time. I remember Shikamaru saying after he proposed that they would need around a year."

"Please. That's what the Bush administration said about the war on terror." Folding her arms, Ino watched him disdainfully. "And it's been more than a year. It's the sex, isn't it?"

Shikamaru glowered at her and meaningfully lifted his knife.

"Hey, _you _brought it up," she reminded him.

"You and Kiba aren't engaged," Chouji said, maintaining a remarkably neutral tone despite the fact that his guests were in the middle of an uneven argument concerning each other's love lives. He distributed paper napkins.

"Meaning," Ino told him, "we haven't fully committed. Shikamaru and Temari have, supposedly." She stopped, suddenly, her carrot-laden fork halfway to her mouth. "I mean…Shik…there's not someone else, right?"

Shikamaru leaned backward, away from his food. He heaved a long sigh and ran his hand over his head from his hairline to his ponytail. At this point, he couldn't even be upset with her for asking. If he was the casual observer, he would have had the same notion. "No, Ino." He said it simply, exhaustion seeping in at the edges of his posture. "There's no one else. Only Temari."

Out of ideas, Ino raised her napkin in the air and waved it like a white flag of surrender.

Chouji could see how tense his friendly dinner had become, and easing it would take more than a six-year-old Cabernet Sauvignon. He poured his own glass wine anyway and regarded his best friend over the rim of his glass. "You're a lawyer," he said, casually. He took a sip as Shikamaru and Ino turned to him, eyebrows raised. "You have a case. You know there's a problem, so what do you do?"

The conversation reached a pause. Silverware chimed against dinner plates, and wineglasses scraped the table. Ino took a bite of tender meat and, because she then understood Chouji, smiled and chewed at the same time.

Shikamaru just stared at him, confused. Slowly though, his gaze sharpened, and he sat up straight in his chair. "Find evidence for why." His voice was steady, making it sound like the most obvious answer in the world.

Where Ino would have crowed her wisdom, Chouji only nodded in quiet agreement. "But not tonight. Eat that before it gets cold. It's not for a microwave, ya know."

* * *

At Uzumaki's, the kitchen was closed. All bills had been paid, all the servers tipped.

Naruto finished sweeping the floor around the cooking stations and surveyed the "backstage" of his restaurant: Inari, a waiter putting himself through college at NYU, was rolling up forks and knives in linen napkins and stacking them in pyramids on a cart; one of his managers, a bespectacled woman named Shiho, was counting inventory and cash drawers in the shared management office; other employees were busy cleaning up from the day.

He smiled to himself. Naruto always expected something to go horribly wrong on days Chouji didn't work, and he was always pleasantly surprised that nothing did. He took off his apron and tossed it in the washing machine he kept near the dishwashing station. Two other college kids were sending crates of used glasses through a steam rinse and drying them by hand.

He called a goodnight to Shiho, who looked up in surprise and pushed her glasses up her nose. "I'll see you in the morning, Naruto!" No matter whose boss he was (and here, he was everyone's boss) Naruto preferred to keep his staff on first-name basis. Like a family.

As he passed by, Naruto leaned in close to Inari's side. "Got a marine biology test tomorrow?"

Inari returned his smile but it was laced with exasperation. "Always. It's my major."

"You did good tonight," Naruto told him. Shiho had told him how smoothly Inari had handled a customer complaint without tossing the problem off onto a superior. "Finish wrapping those, and you can clock out. I'll take care of your other side work when I come in tomorrow morning."

Inari looked like going home early was the same as having Christmas on his birthday. "Thanks, Naruto!"

"No problem, good luck studying!" Happily, he stepped from the kitchen, just a normal guy in jeans and a polo shirt that smelled intensely of ranch dressing and chicken tenders. (He had been making children's dinners this evening.)

A few stragglers were taking it easy in the dining room, drinking coffee and discussing the art exhibition they had just attended. The name Rock Lee was mentioned three times in five seconds. Naruto moved past them, eyeing a high school employee waiting to bus their table as soon as they got up to go.

In the back of the room, in the corner booth, sat someone who was not there to have dinner, although she probably had eaten already. Now her table was clear but for a brightly-painted mug of hot herbal tea and a notepad filled with sketches and self-directed notes. Naruto stood a short distance away and watched her work for a minute. She had curled her jet black hair today, and it tumbled softly over her shoulders as she gently erased some unsatisfactory pencil marks.

He scooted into the booth beside her, and Hinata smiled up at him. She let her head rest on his shoulder, for a moment. It had been a long Thursday. "I saw Inari leave. You let him go early?"

"He's gunning for an internship this summer," Naruto explained, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Doesn't want to work here his whole life."

Hinata pushed her tea in his direction; Naruto drained the mug while she put away her pad and pencil, then helped his wife out of the booth. He asked about her day, and she described the bedroom she was in the process of decorating for a rich couple's teenage daughter on Long Island. She spoke very reluctantly of the Miley Cyrus posters she'd been forced to hang, though the antique chaise she had discovered in the clients' upstairs hallway made her cheerfully enthusiastic. Naruto knew precious little about upholstery, but his wife's sweet contentment overcame any common interest gap.

"And tomorrow's finally Friday," he said, already rejoicing it as they emerged on the street. He would only work until noon, and Hinata had no appointments scheduled until Monday.

Hinata threw him a slightly startled look. "Have you forgotten about tomorrow night?"

Naruto flipped through his short-term memory, frenetic. "Uh…"

"It's my father's—"

"Dinner!" Inside, Naruto groaned. His father-in-law was a bear when it came to the rest of his family, which, for some time now, included the blond restaurant proprietor. Hiashi and his damn traditions. There went the salmon he'd been planning to grill.

Outside, he just beamed down at Hinata's wide-eyed face.

Hinata knew him well enough to see past the squinting of his blue eyes and find the nerves blooming in her husband's gut. "Don't worry," she said. She took his hand and held it with more strength than her slight build suggested. "You have me."

And really, Naruto told himself as he tucked her arm under his and proceeded home, what else did he need?

_To Be Continued..._


	4. Friday

_Author's Notes: Not much to say really, just been busy with work. I'm not always sure where this fic is headed, which is why updates are scarce, but hopefully you'll enjoy the chapter._

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto and am making no profit from this fan fiction.

**Life Choices **

Chapter Four: Friday

By Nessie

Shikamaru didn't understand what he was doing on the Upper West Side, watching Temari shove her way through a herd of businessmen moving opposite her on a crosswalk as she made her way toward him. He was the type of person who liked – demanded, really – to know what was going on. Not being in the know made him uncomfortable.

"Share the street, lady," he heard one of the white-collars say as Temari made it to the opposite curb, swinging her oversized handbag inconsiderately.

"Fuck you!" was Temari's habit-driven reply. Shikamaru felt his lips twitch but forced a stern expression as she approached him. She immediately forgot the businessman and grinned with just a hint of sheepishness. "Hi, baby."

"I hope you can explain yourself," Shikamaru said after a quick peck on the lips. There was no heat in the kiss, and there hadn't been since their abrupt exchange the night of Mayor Sarutobi's funeral. "You said dinner."

"This _is_ dinner," Temari told him. "It was last-minute, but Tenten really wanted us to join her and Neji here tonight. She promised it was okay."

Shikamaru rocked back on his heels. "I don't actually think Neji would approve. He doesn't mix business and his home life."

"Then I guess you should stay away from topics related to your work, and talk about his home life instead, which by the way I'm absolutely curious about. And I'm starving, so come on." She took his arm and led him through the open front door of a five-story brownstone whose down payment would cost her an entire year's run of income.

"It's Hiashi Hyuuga's house," Shikamaru said through gritted teeth as a wave of air conditioning and chatter hit them as they entered. He immediately noticed that the large group of people already assembled in the wide foyer (more of a main lobby than a hallway) consisted primarily of black-haired, pale-eyed Japanese-Americans. Almost at once he caught the eye of someone who badly fit that description; Naruto Uzumaki waved from the back, at Hinata's side as she conversed with whom Shikamaru assumed was one of her many cousins.

"Oh God," Temari murmured as her eyes absorbed the array of women sparking with diamonds and their Brooks Brothers-clad counterparts. "This is where Neji grew up? I already feel underdressed." She had borrowed her outfit from some cast mates and come straight from the theater. The black slacks, low-heeled sandals and burgundy blouse she wore were honestly more conservative than she would normally have chosen, and she preferred her multi-ponytail hairstyle to the bun confining her blond strands. However, Tenten had assured her dinner would be a dress-code event and she was willing to comply for a good meal. Shikamaru looked perfect in his attorney's uniform of suit and tie.

"You look great, Tem." The word, if he was honest, was _different_. Temari didn't do straight-edge when it came to fashion, which had never bothered him. (He was, after all, a defense attorney who wore studs in his ears.) Right now she looked muted. But the smile she showed him was the best one he'd gotten in a while. It made him regret that soon enough they would need to muddle through an adult tête-à-tête.

From behind him, a gruff voice he knew perfectly well said "Nara," and Shikamaru turned. Neji stood, looking at first glance rather irked, and at second glance merely puzzled. Shikamaru's law partner's emotions were ranged according to setting. His childhood home, it seemed, called for the dull end of the spectrum. "What are you doing here?" Neji went on.

Tenten appeared in the doorway, attempting to discreetly shove a pair of Old Navy flip flops into her purse as to discard the evidence that she had only now donned her Jimmy Choos. Hair halfway up and curled, she looked resplendent in a lime green cocktail dress. "It was my idea. Tenten and I were talking last night, and I knew they had no plans for today. Inviting them over seemed like a good solution."

Neji regarded his wife steadily, and Shikamaru knew there was something forming in his mind in response to Tenten's rash action. However, he only nodded and said, "I see. You ought to put on your other earring, dear."

As Tenten began digging frantically in her purse, a long-haired, older gentleman whom Temari took to be Hiashi Hyuuga himself announced dinner on the next floor. People started up the stairs and – to the actress's astonishment – into an elevator.

Naruto and Hinata met them in the middle of the foyer. "I know a shortcut upstairs," Hinata told them, smiling.

Naruto beamed, clapped Shikamaru on the shoulder and added, "I think I know from Chouji what kind of drink you lawyer types want after a workday. Let's see if we can find it, yeah?"

They proceeded up to dinner, but Neji hung back and waited for Tenten to finish fastening an emerald drop to her left earlobe. "Do you care to tell me your real motive for inviting Shikamaru and Temari?" he asked.

"I just thought a couple new faces might liven up the party."

"You could have said something beforehand. I don't imagine they'll be very comfortable."

"Neji, it's just dinner, not a race over hot coals."

"I don't care for these pretentious family functions." Neji folded his arms and lowered his voice, conscious of the mass exit making it easier to be overheard. "You know that."

"No," Tenten agreed. Unabashed, she leaned into him and linked her fingers behind his neck. "You're Neji Hyuuga, superstar lawyer. You like historical documentaries. You like homework and vegetables."

Tenten could, as always, amuse Neji in spite of himself. He unlocked her teasing grip and extended his arm to guide her upstairs. "And you," he added. Watching her eyes light up improved his mood immensely, but the thought of voluntarily subjecting Shikamaru to his uncle remained heavy on his mind.

* * *

The Hyuuga family's fortune originated from curio shops in the 1930's, a time when most Americans were unable to tell Neji's ethnic origin from Tenten's. Japanese and Chinese heritages were unknown or ignored by the general public. Nevertheless, goods imported from East Asia earned enough fascination to prove lucrative for Hiashi's immigrant grandfather, who sold rice paper screens, knock-off kimono, and badly rendered woodblock prints for double their actual worth to tourists in the Angel Island area.

As East Asia gained genuine scholarly interest, the Hyuuga family business lost steam – but not savings. Hiashi's father had left the west coast for New York when his wife became pregnant with twins, taking up steady employment in economics. His oldest son would follow him in this trade. Hizashi, the somewhat younger of the two, grew up to be a electric engineer specializing in early satellite technology before such applications had become popular. Compassionate, if unremarkable, he lived long enough to produce one child before dying of a genetic heart complication that had passed Hiashi by. Hizashi's wife, neurotic and undone by her husband's passing, had abandoned her three-year-old son to be raised by the heir of the Hyuuga fortune.

Shikamaru explained all of this to Temari over dinner's course of ginger-carrot soup. "They don't know where Neji's mother has been since," he added before she could ask.

Temari took a sip from her glass of water and tried to discreetly glance at Neji. The enormous dining room and part of the adjoining living room had been decked with several long tables to accommodate all of the houseguests; she and Shikamaru had been placed at dinner with Hiashi himself. The economist's nephew and niece-in-law were sitting across from them, still in rapt conversation with Hinata and Naruto. (Apparently, they were planning an extended trip to Paris and wanted Neji's advice on potentially skirting a long visa process.) Neji seemed adequately content relaying what he knew of nation exit customs, while Tenten took advantage of his distraction and snuck a cracker from beside his soup bowl, dripping it in her own and smiling when she caught Temari's eye.

"That's quite the story," said Temari at last to Shikamaru. Nodding toward where Hiashi sat at the head of the table, she continued, "I can't imagine growing up here was too much fun though. Mr. Hyuuga looks like a ball." Even now, Hiashi was reprimanding his youngest daughter, Hanabi, for showing up late to dinner even though Hanabi explained her class at NYU had run late.

"This is why I should not have allowed you to live on campus," Hiashi was saying. "Hinata has never arrived late for our monthly dinner."

"Hinata," his daughter fired back, "didn't have to go to three-hour cellular biology labs." Dressed in jeans, gladiator sandals and a black tank top with elbow-reaching fishnet serving as sleeves, Hanabi served as a stark contrast to Hinata, who looked as though she had just come from Fifth Avenue.

Hiashi arched an eyebrow. "Do not attempt to downplay your sister's achievements. Her mind is not scientific, but her chosen profession has proved successful. _And _capable of proper scheduling."

Unsure whether to be embarrassed or pleased, Hinata said, "She only missed the salad, Father."

Appeased for the moment, Hiashi turned his attention to the newcomers at his table. "Mr. Nara, it has been some time. I am glad Tenten suggested you join us. You may consider yourselves welcome each month, of course."

Shikamaru's smile was tight-lipped. It was difficult to think of sharing any traditions with the Hyuuga family. Until now, he and Neji had been very good about maintaining a business-primary relationship. "Thank you, sir."

"Neji has mentioned once or twice that you and Ms. Sands enjoy an extramarital living situation."

There was a devastating pause in which everyone but Hanabi stopped conveying spoonfuls of soup to their lips. Neji cleared his throat. "Uncle, I hardly think this is an appropriate—"

"I was merely going to enquire about the budget reliability of their situation in the current economic climate," Hiashi defended himself. "I have a vested interest in such things, you know."

Shikamaru felt the blood drain from his face as Temari's hand clenched vice-like on his knee. He was _not_ going to be forced into humiliation simply because Hiashi Hyuuga overstepped dinner topic boundaries. He cast a sidelong look into Temari's blue eyes. She did not appear pleased in the least.

"Oh look!" Naruto exclaimed much too loudly. "The main course!"

But not even lemon chicken and an abrupt turn to far less personal topics would restore the initial restful atmosphere for the remainder of the meal.

* * *

Kurenai was choosing her outfit for tomorrow morning when Asuma stepped into their bedroom. It wasn't usually a long process, as she had a limited selection of maternity clothes in her wardrobe, but she would be appearing on camera for another telecasted press conference concerning the upcoming mayoral elections. A well dressed secretary was a job-secure secretary, pregnant or not.

"I like the red jacket," Asuma told her, picking up the article from where she had strewn it on the bed. Smiling, he held it across the width of his chest. "Reminds me of that little satin thing that's been hiding in your underwear drawer for the last seven months."

"Well, it wouldn't exactly fit me at the moment, would it?" With one hand on her bulging stomach, Kurenai went on tiptoe to welcome him home. Asuma's kiss lasted long, and then he gathered her to his chest and stood without speaking. "Is something the matter? Is it your father?"

It wasn't really. After a week, the gloom was fading and replaced with other concerns. "Nah," he replied, laying his fingers over hers and feeling a little squirm from inside her belly. "It's this little guy's father."

"Or girl," Kurenai promptly corrected. She craned her neck to meet his gaze as he towered over her. "And what's wrong with my baby's daddy, Asuma?"

"Long day," he sighed, sitting down on the bed. She began to offer a slew of leftovers haunting the fridge and mentioned some tea that was still sitting hot in a kettle on the stove, but Asuma cut her off by pulling her astride his lap. He examined her while she lapsed into agreeable silence. Her ankles were swollen, there was a roundness to her cheeks that hadn't been there at the start of their relationship, and she wasn't allowed to have sex until the delivery was over and done with, but to Asuma she was still the best thing in his life.

"I love you," they said at the same time, breaking the quiet. Asuma broke down into laughter and Kurenai joined in. They sat together, enjoying each other's company at the end of the day and waiting impatiently for the best of them both to meet them face-to-face. But the baby was still a few weeks away.

At last Kurenai confirmed, "Red jacket it is."

"Okay, then I'm putting everything else away. That way you can't go crazy in the morning and change your mind," Asuma said. It was an expert way of hiding his secondary motive: clearing the bed so they could both get some sleep.

* * *

As Asuma and Kurenai headed for bed, Kiba and Ino were just leaving her condo for a late Friday on the town. There was band Kiba liked at one of Ino's favorite bars, and such a rare mesh of their normally varying preferences was not to be missed.

"You do a swimsuit shot today, babe?" Kiba slung his arm around Ino's narrow hips, admiring the way her legs gleamed in the streetlight, swishing back and forth under a loose miniskirt.

Ino's hands were busy tying her long hair back in a ponytail that would have been casual if the elastic she used wasn't encrusted with garnets. "Valentino gowns. Why? Oh wait." She shot him a devilish look. "Because you think I shaved everywhere?"

Kiba laughed, caught at his own moment of teasing. "Well?"

She leaned toward him and pressed her lips almost chastely to his neck. "Waxed," she affirmed. "And Christ, you'd better be grateful."

Not to be outdone by his girlfriend, Kiba rubbed her back and lingered at the skin of her shoulder-blades, left bare by her low-cut shirt. "Couple of hours from now, I promise to make you grateful too." Ino was bereft of a comeback, satisfying him.

But only because he didn't know that just above the collar of his brown leather jacket, her lips had printed a kiss in bright pink on his neck.

* * *

"What a judgmental prick!" exclaimed Temari. She had wisely waited until they were two blocks from the Hyuuga house. "First he criticizes his daughters when their whole family's there – real passive abuse crap. Then he turns it on people he doesn't even know? Jesus, it makes you wonder what Thanksgiving is like. How is Neji not completely damaged?"

"Stubbornness," Shikamaru answered simply. "He and Hanabi have that in common. Hinata got the worst of it growing up anyway."

"Jeez, so _that's _why she's such a quiet little thing. It's like the goddamn Victorian age in there. I have to credit Naruto and Tenten for marrying into that family. They put up with a dinner like that every month!" Temari's tirade subsided a little. "On that note, it's been a while since we've been up to see your parents. Your mom's probably expecting you to call her pretty soon."

Shikamaru abruptly changed the subject. "We need to have a talk."

Temari stopped in her tracks, something he had been ready for. They stood motionless on the sidewalk, while Friday nighters swarmed on both sides of them. She had been hoping they could bond together on Hiashi Hyuuga's asinine table conversation, but Shikamaru's expression was solemn. "Okay…well, do you want to stop in at the coffee shop up here and—"

"I think it should be at home."

Temari nodded. There was a habitual strand of rebellion tugging at her to resist, but then she remembered how in favor Tenten had been of her talking it out with her fiancée. Encouraged by her friend's advice, she fell into step with Shikamaru and they hailed the next cab that ambled by.

If there was one thing she feared, it was a Friday night at home.

_To Be Continued…_


	5. Surprises

_Author's Note: Are you stunned to see this up? Me too. I've spent the last year studying and traveling, leaving me little writing time, but I've kept this chapter in the back of my mind. In fact, I think that my travels have influenced this fic a bit here and there. Hopefully you're all still interested. The end's not far away!_

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto and am making no profit from this fan fiction.

**Life Choices**

Chapter Five: Surprises

By Nessie

Shikamaru uncorked his special wine; about a year ago, Chouji had spent a month traveling France and sampling various regional cuisine before finally meeting up with Ino while she was doing a fashion show in Paris. Chouji hadn't wanted his best friend to feel left out and had brought back four bottles of Bordeaux for Shikamaru. Since then, the lawyer had taken to opening a new bottle every time he and Temari needed to have a serious, adult heart-to-heart.

This was the third bottle he'd opened. So much for letting it age.

Temari had her elbows propped up on the kitchen table. She watched him as he poured her a glass, then lethargically brought it to her lips. "This is the fight wine, isn't it?" she said, examining the color of the liquid.

Shikamaru sat down across from her and met her eyes. It was unwise to allow her the upper hand in sarcasm, so he answered, "I chose it for its bouquet of exhaustion, confusion, and a just hint of makeup sex."

"I would have made tea." Halfhearted jokes aside, Temari reached across the table and took his free hand as he drank. "So what is it?"

"We need to talk about our marriage." He saw her take a deep breath, knew she was thinking _what marriage_, and hurried on. "The first thing you need to know is that I still want to marry you. But Tem…we gotta work this out."

"I know." Temari's shoulders slumped, and she took a long drink from her glass. Her smile was wry. "I mean, it's honestly pretty ridiculous when you think about it. I can memorize entire three-act plays and you can argue half a street gang into prison, but we can't set a date for a wedding."

"Our jobs do make it troublesome," agreed Shikamaru, "but I think we need to stop excusing ourselves with that. Let's compromise somehow, get married, go on a honeymoon—"

"Christ, if we can't set aside one day for the ceremony, how will we ever manage a week or two for a honeymoon?"

"A negative attitude won't get us anywhere," he told her firmly.

Temari turned her eyes to the ceiling, as if optimism might float down through the plaster and into her brain. "Okay, okay…_I_ think we should _try_ to get married this year."

"Agreed." Shikamaru felt more relief than he expressed. It would have been a bad sign if she suggested they push it back further. "June?"

"Oh, baby, that's Tony season." Temari pursed her lips. "Even if I'm not nominated, the show probably will be. I'll have to be in town until the hype wears down. What about November?"

Shikamaru shook his head. "Violence always spikes around Thanksgiving and Christmas. Neji and I will be knee-deep in assault suits from guys who punched their brother-in-law or Grandmas shoved too hard fighting over the Tickle-Me-Elmo."

Discouraged by the block in their progress, Temari changed tracks. "Well…let's come back to the date." She beamed at him. "What about the honeymoon? Where would you really like to go? Gaara tells me Cairo is fabulous."

"I'm not sure Egypt would be a very safe bet right now, considering the situation there. But if you want someplace sandy and warm, there's always Greece," Shikamaru suggested.

"Ugh, and get coerced into performing Euripides the second we get back? No thank you. Prague?"

"The crowds would be too troublesome, and it'll be freezing if we do get married in the winter. Venice?"

Temari shot him a stern look. "Too close to Florence. Sasuke and Sakura went to Florence on their honeymoon, and we are not copying the Power Couple."

"They're not the Power Couple," Shikamaru said, distracted. "Who calls them the Power Couple?"

"Everybody," Temari told him. "Well, not in front of them, obviously. But you know…married the longest, governmentally recognized, probably the wealthiest with what Sakura makes as a surgeon…"

Shikamaru was already refilling his glass and topped hers off while he was at it. "Well, at least we know Naruto wants to cater both the rehearsal dinner and the reception."

"But we need to give him a date to put in the schedule at Uzumaki's."

"Which brings us back to the first question."

They stared at each other across the table, over the rims of their respective wineglasses. They started laughing at the same time.

"You know," Temari told him through an irrepressible grin, "we're the only ones who find this funny. Everyone else thinks we're insane."

"I don't understand that." Shikamaru brought his chair around to her side and threw his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, her head against his. "We're practically married already."

"Mm-hmm." Temari enjoyed the quiet moment, especially the way he ran his index finger in circles over her upper arm. "Pajamas and a movie?" After all, they could cuddle much better on the couch than at the table.

Shikamaru nodded, stood up. He could tell his fiancée was already gearing up his argument for what they should watch. He would probably lose the fight and end up looking at Humphrey Bogart for the next two hours.

"One day we'll have a fight that decides something," he said, only half-joking. They removed to the bedroom for night-in clothes. He hoped it would be about the wedding, and soon.

* * *

A few days later, Sakura received an unexpected guest during her clinic hours at the hospital. "Sai!"

But Sai was paying her little attention as he stood in the doorway. Instead, a thin, black-clad body was half-turned so that was facing the hallway. "You did this to yourself. Get in here, before I inform the _Times_ you're too damaged and will never sculpt again."

"You would know about being damaged," came the reluctant squabble. "It's nothing!"

"Sakura," Sai said, grabbing something beyond the door and then tossing another man through it into the small examination room where Sakura had been sterilizing syringes between appointments. "I've brought you a surprise patient."

Lee swayed on his feet but didn't fall. In the bright whiteness of the room, he resembled a column of black-topped jade. His normally well combed hair was disheveled, wide eyes narrowed in an uncharacteristic wince. "Hello, Sakura," wheezed Lee. He held both hands behind his back. "Busy morning?"

"What's going on?" asked Sakura, setting aside her cleaning materials. She had a number of good friends, but none of them made it a habit to visit her at work.

Sai shot Lee a deadpan look that may as well have been a glower. Slowly, Lee revealed his injury. The right hand supported the left at the wrist, holding it aloft. Dried blood covered Lee's knuckles while bruises were forming, dark and purplish, across the back of his hand.

Sakura couldn't suppress an unprofessional gasp. The wound wasn't by the far the worst she had seen, but Lee was a close personal friend – more specifically, an ex-boyfriend. And she knew him well enough to get an inkling of whose fault this was. "What did you do?"

Lee winced again, though this time the expression wasn't sourced at his hand. "There was a benefit in the park this morning. You know, the Broadway Cares thing, and we were doing pieces for this season's shows."

Impatient with his fellow artist's slow explanation, Sai interrupted. "I was painting Donna Murphy, and butterfingers here should've been putting the finishing touches on a bust of Norbert Leo Butz. But _you_," he said menacingly to Lee, "just had to show off for those girls. _That _is why gray marble should go on the floor and not in exhibits. Now poor Norbert is missing his nose." Sai crossed his arms and tapped his foot.

Sakura rounded on Lee as well. "I've told you, you have to pay attention! It isn't clay you're sculpting with. It looks like you drove your mallet right into your middle tendon." As she lectured, she reached for antiseptic and bandages.

"Maybe a bit toward the thumb," offered Lee meekly.

Sakura swatted his shoulder, harsh out of care. "You're an artist, idiot. What would you do if you couldn't sculpt anymore?"

Resilience catching up to him, Lee grinned. "Oh, but I would never stop! Even if it took twice as long, I would work and work until more of my sculptures filled the homes and hospitals of all New York!"

Cleaning away the last of the blood, the doctor began wrapping gauze around Lee's hand. "I don't think this place can afford another Rock Lee original, honestly." As she gingerly worked her way between his fingers, Sakura couldn't help remembering college days when they had dated, and knew Lee was doing the same. It felt like eons ago, before she had graduated medical school, before she'd met Sasuke and everything since. Lee had been a great boyfriend, but their dedication to such different celebrations of life had made it difficult to spend time together. And it had worked out for the best after all, at least in her case. Sometimes she wondered if Lee looked back on that time too fondly for his own good.

"Almost finished?" Sai's arched eyebrows stood out prominently in his pale face. "I have to get back to the park soon. They say Stephen Sondheim might make an appearance, and I want to persuade him to sit for me."

Ignoring him, Sakura presented her prognosis. "There's no permanent damage, as far as I can tell without an X-ray. Bone tissue heals quickly, but until it does I want you to take a break from sculpting. Sketch whatever you like, but if I find out you've touched a chisel without my blessing, you'll be sorry I'm your doctor. You're just lucky it wasn't your right hand."

Lee pouted. "I'm in the middle of—"

"Doesn't matter. Why don't you plan an ice sculpture for Temari and Shikamaru's wedding?" suggested Sakura. "Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Sure," scoffed Sai, "if that wedding actually happens. You know the society pages say it's all a hoax."

"I don't read the society pages," Sakura told him firmly, "and I bet you don't either. Take Lee home on your way back and lock up all his tools, won't you? Call me if he struggles."

"Okay, Doctor Bossy." Sai shot Sakura's coat a critical look. "Darling, you really should let Ino come in and _haute couture _the hell out of this place. White does nothing for you."

"_Go_!"

* * *

Ino felt her ears burning and wondered in what conversation she had just been brought up, until she realized that Akamaru was panting at the back of her head and blasting hot breath across her earlobes. "Outta the car, Akamaru," she ordered, shifting before the enormous police dog could drool on her Valentino blouse.

Kiba was already standing outside the car to open the back door for Akamaru. He leaned back inside and grinned at his girlfriend. "Sorry I have to work on Saturday. I'll make it up to you."

"You better," Ino advised, using the steering wheel for leverage as she strained against the seatbelt to kiss Kiba goodbye. "I hope you bust a lot of peddlers. And then I hope Asuma will kick your ass into gear, just for the fun of it."

"Love you too," he chuckled and appreciated the way the tough-as-nails supermodel slackened just a bit. "Bye, babe." He jogged into the station with Akamaru at his side, making his way to his desk with aspirations of a cup of coffee. He had only just sat down when his name was called loudly enough to carry across the entire officers' floor.

Captain Sarutobi's office was as orderly as ever. Asuma was behind his desk, smoking as he went through files on his computer. As Kiba shut the door behind him, he gave his cigarette a hard bite, then crushed it into the tray. "Do me a favor," he said crossly, "and try to bank that oversexed aura in the future."

Kiba fought back laughter. "It's that stage of the pregnancy, huh?" At Asuma's affirming look, he continued, "Don't worry. Kurenai looks ready to pop. It won't be long."

The choice of words seemingly alarmed Asuma – who was unprepared to imagine his child's mother 'popping' in any manner whatsoever – but he quickly hid it. "You and Akamaru are working with me today. Surprise."

"Really? It's been awhile since you went into the field." In fact, Kiba was having a hard time picturing Asuma outside of his office. He was at work earlier and later than most of the Midtown force.

"Guess I'm due for a reemergence." He explained about a dealer whose business of the usual illicit substances was conducted on a playground at Hudson and Bleecker. Until recently, the dealer had come out clean on every body search the Parks and Recreation authorities had performed. NYPD had just learned that the dealer actually went to the playground with his son.

"And if he's selling there, but the drugs aren't on him," murmured Kiba.

Asuma nodded. "Obviously, we can't simply approach a child that way without evidence. But if you happen to be taking Akamaru on a walk around the playground, the dog sniffs out the drugs, and a police captain just _happens _to be there as an eyewitness?" Smiling to himself, he shook out a new cigarette from a crumpled packet.

"Bagged."

"I don't need to tell you," his captain went on as he flicked the wheel of his lighter, "that this kind of thing is never as easy as it sounds. We're talking about a minor here, so be delicate and stay smart."

Akamaru barked joyfully, and Kiba scratched the top of his dog's head. "Delicate and smart. That's us all over, isn't it, boy?"

* * *

Maternity leave had been a nice idea, but Kurenai had turned it down, opting instead for reduced worktime. She didn't view press conferences as work, per se; all she had to do was direct members of the press to folding, direct the new mayor toward his backstage dressing room in order to prepare announcing his decision not to run for the next term, and direct the relevant security staff to their pre-planned positions. And voila, done.

She swayed on the steps down from the stage and felt a pang of fear (plus a swift mental curse in the direction of her protruding belly). A steady hand grabbed her elbow before the sway could increase to a wobble. Kurenai looked up into the lightly frowning face of Sasuke Uchiha.

"What on earth are you doing here?" she asked, amazed. He certainly wasn't the first person she would have expected to be keeping an eye on her.

Confirming that she wasn't about to topple backwards and free-fall, Sasuke allowed his tight express to relax. "Educating myself." He guided Kurenai down the rest of the steps and into an empty seat in the front row.

"About press conferences?"

"If I'm fortunate," said Sasuke, "I may be holding a few myself before long."

She smiled. "That's appropriately mysterious of you, Mr. Uchiha, but the papers have already revealed your plans to run for…something or other." He had a very cool demeanor that would never make him President, but the Senate could very well be possible for a young, handsome democrat from New York.

Kurenai didn't know Sasuke well enough to ask him for details. Actually, she wasn't positive she had spoken to him since he had worked as the late Mayor Sarutobi's personal bodyguard. Vaguely she recalled that her ties to Sasuke ran stronger through Hinata; she had known the Hyuuga heiress since before she'd taken up interior design, and her husband the restaurateur was a friend of Sasuke's. Or was it more because his wife was Ino Yamanaka's best friend, and Asuma had been a family friend of the Yamanakas for years?

She shrugged. "They're boring things, unless you're with the media, I suppose." Sasuke didn't have time to answer because Sarutobi's deputy-turned-actual-mayor walked out. Cameras began rolling while various reporters took out tape recorders and iPads.

Kurenai tuned him out before he even started speaking. She thought perhaps the bagel this morning had been a bad idea – her stomach was in knots. She would have clenched her skirt if her belly wasn't in the way. Instead she made fists against her ribcage. If Sasuke noticed, he gave no indication.

"While this wonderful city means nothing short of the world to me…" the mayor was saying.

This was no stomachache. She had guessed wrong. Kurenai turned pale, shifting dubiously while trying to ascertain the best route for escaping the room mostly unseen.

"Are you all right?" Sasuke was unable to ignore her ashen face and the way she was darting her eyes about. "What—"

"I think I've…" This was embarrassing, despite the fact that it was perfectly normal for a woman as intensely pregnant as she was. "Mr. Uchiha. I'm afraid my—my water just broke."

That made the famously calm Uchiha face contort with something between shock and fright. It almost made Kurenai laugh, until a new pain gripped her lower abdomen. Grinding her teeth, she added, "I'm so sorry, but – could I trouble you to—"

"Of course." All business, Sasuke regained his composure and pulled her arm through his. They stood up together, leaving no other impression besides a courteous gentleman assisting a pregnant woman in going outside. Kurenai fervently hoped her suit was a dark enough red to conceal the wet stain.

Sasuke asked where her obstetrician could be found. His impromptu charge grinned wryly. Sweating from the pain of that initial contraction, she told him. He immediately took out his iPhone and hit the speed dial.

"Sakura," he said when he was answered, "I'm coming in. I have Yuuhi Kurenai with me. She's going into labor."

As he put her in a taxi and rounded the other side to get in, Kurenai couldn't be more grateful that she hadn't been forced to give birth on TV. "Won't Doctor Haruno ask questions about this?" It was a strange situation, after all.

Sasuke gave her the slightest of smiles. "Sakura's only a little bit of the jealous wife," he assured her, already taking out his wallet to pay the cab fare.

She was reminded to call Asuma and weakly dialed, praying the contractions were still far enough apart to tell him the news. The call went straight to voicemail, and she frowned.

Oh well. He probably still had several hours to get to the hospital.

_To Be Continued…_


End file.

Naruto, Drama, Romance