Disclaimer: I wish they were mine...but hey, at least my Nara Shikaru is mine. And my Hyuuga Hizaru. MINE, I TELL YOU. -snuggles them- ...also, Kishi...STOP F*ING KILLING OFF MY FAVORITE PAIRINGS. CHRIST.

Title: Fickle Formality

Summary Notes: -shiteating grin- Yes, I'm back, and yes, I'm still determined to keep this pairing going. This piece is probably more light hearted and humourous than my other ones thus far, though definitely with a side of hot. Well...I hope so anyway...I tried to make Hiashi hot. Anyway, this one is dedicated to lovesrainscent for inspiring my love for all Nara, and also for encouraging me as much as she has, particularly with this pairing. Seriously, you have no idea how much encouragement does for even the most apparently confident of us, especially with a pairing like this. But in return for dedicating "Whimsy" to me in your Shikaku/Yoshino drabbles, I finished this up just for you, Loves! I hope you like it, and I hope it's hot enough for your tastes (I'll probably do a lemon one day with them, I swear). Also, I hope Hiashi's hot enough for you, and the workings of Tsume's head is hysterical enough. Also, I put a lazy-ass surprise in there, juuuuust for you. ;D


Another look like his mixed me up again

You really do play tricks on me,

Don't you, gods of love, demons of lust? - Yosano Akiko

Inuzuka Tsume did not like to be discomfited.

Actually, that was an understatement. When Inuzuka Tsume was discomfited, harassed, frustrated, flustered or hot and bothered in any way, she tended to react accordingly. Well, accordingly in her book, anyway. And accordingly in Inuzuka Tsume's book generally consisted of marching up with hackles raised and confronting whatever it was that was making her discomfited, harassed, frustrated, flustered or hot and bothered. And if that didn't work, she was more than willing to get her teeth, claws and kunai involved.

There was just one problem with doing so in their current setting. It was a formal event...well, not really, but any Festival was counted as formal whether you were called leader or master or mistress of one of Konoha's shinobi clans, no matter what rank it was in the hierachy. Which meant that you were generally expected to behave well, and set an example. Unless you wanted the nagging wrath of your elders to descend upon you, and Tsume had little patience for the old bitches posing as her wise council amongst the Inuzuka.

So going by her own book of law wasn't exactly a possibility.

But there was just this one little problem.

Piss. Off. Hyuuga.

The threat of teeth, claws and kunai seemed to have little effect on the man she was currently inflicting every curse, swear word, insult and physical injury on. Well, mentally, anyway; she didn't think it'd go down too well if she tried to leap across the cute couples dancing between them. It wouldn't go down too well at all, really, because there was a distinct chance that she could end up leaping across the fray at him for all the wrong reasons.

Besides, contrary to popular belief, Inuzuka Tsume had dignity. And that aside, she might have felt just a little bad if she embarrassed her children in front of their friends and comrades. Thus, her violent and not-so-violent but definitely not appropriate thoughts were forced to remain in her head, rebounding off her skull and giving her one hell of a migraine.

Or maybe that was some kind of twisted, masochistic, repressed sexual frustration.

Or maybe it was the fact that he kept staring at her like that, and making her see and remember and envision things she shouldn't.

Tsume growled, causing several young girls (and a few boys too) to jump in fright and scuttle away.

Fuck me, Hyuuga, don't you ever have anyone else to screw with? No wonder your wife bolted for the clouds.

Tsume paused with that trail of thought, and if she'd been a woman of a less stoic disposition and of more delicate breeding, she might have blushed at the very appropriate-yet-inappropriate thoughts that had just joined the ranks rebounding off of her skull.

Ha. Yeah. As if. She could only imagine what Hiashi would do if he caught her blushing for any reason. For a man who was so reserved and cold to ninety nine point nine percent of the world, he had a particularly infuriating habit of getting under your skin and riling you up without even cracking a smile. Or maybe that was just her. Either way, the bastard was enjoying it, or as close to showing enjoyment as Hyuuga Hiashi could show. He was far too stilted for his own good, really, even if her hormones liked to remind her quite lustily that the stilted detachment only went so far.

But no, not even a twinkle in the eye, half the time, unless you were really looking closely. If you actually managed to get that close, of course. The aura of arrogance and hell freezing over tended to act a bit like bubble wrap; it looked attractive, and you wanted to poke at it, but it had the potential to turn deadly and choke you, depending on the mood.

Hyuuga Hiashi and bubble wrap in the same sentence.

Despite herself, Tsume smirked at the thought, and the smirk only widened when she glanced across the dance square to find one haughty eyebrow raised in an expression that was somewhere between enquiry and suspicion. Tsume's response was to pout innocently, giving him her best puppy eyed expression, and she nearly crowed in smug satisfaction at the reaction. It was barely there, but it was there; the stiffening of posture, the jaw twitch and the slight crinkling of nose that told her better than anything that she'd won that one and thrown him off balance. And that was rather satisfying, throwing Hyuuga Hiashi off balance.

"What are you up to?"

Tsume started guiltily at the dry voice, hastily smoothing her kimono down and glancing in its direction, only to come face to face with the twinkling brown eyes of Nara Yoshino. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Shikaku lounging with deceptive docility (of course, if you had half a brain, you'd know not to trust any Nara for a second when it came to looking docile, and Tsume had known Shikaku long enough to vouch for that) against a wall, quietly spreading his attention between the festivities, his son and now, his wife and Inuzuka comrade. Tsume didn't mind too much; she liked the Nara, and counted them amongst her rather short list of trustworthy friends, even if Shikaku could be a relentless tease when he felt like riling someone up and Yoshino was just a little too perceptive for anyone's good.

Still, it didn't stop her shooting Shikaku a dirty look when he raised his eyebrows and motioned his head in the direction of Hiashi, and he smiled that wicked but oh so disarming Nara smile at her, holding his hands up in a show of mock contrition at both Tsume and the warning look from his wife. Yoshino rolled her eyes before turning back to Tsume, the former chuunin crossing her arms and tilting her head in a way that made the jonin and Inuzuka mistress want to cringe at the premonition of motherly doom that was likely about to descend upon her. Yoshino tended to have that effect on people, and though she could be terribly predictable about it, it didn't lessen the effect. So Tsume was all ready to open her mouth to protest her innocence, and thus, was somewhat miffed when Yoshino laughed at her expression and waved it off, chuckling again and nudging Tsume companiably when the Inuzuka woman pouted.

"Just be careful, Tsume," Yoshino murmured, her coffee coloured eyes showing a brief hint of concern as she looked up at the considerably taller Tsume, glancing briefly across the square to where Hiashi was before smiling up at Tsume and patting her arm, and stepping back towards her husband. Tsume blinked in bemusement, before scowling and shaking an indignant fist after them.

"I'm always careful!" she shouted in protest, half serious, half playful. Shikaku's response was to wave a lazy hand in response, quirking an eyebrow in an expression they both knew would have had Tsume launching herself bodily at him had Yoshino not been there. Actually, Tsume still probably would have done it with Yoshino there, but she had promised she wouldn't embarrass herself or her kids, after all. So she settled for baring her fangs in playful warning at the Nara shinobi, snickering when Yoshino flicked him upside the head and caused him to wince sheepishly before the pair disappeared into the crowd.

Still smirking, Tsume turned her attention back to the other side of the dance floor, her mood much lightened by the encounter with the Nara (and a lot lightened from watching Shikaku suffer), only for her mood to plummet when she discovered that, at some point while she was distracted, Hiashi had moved. Where, she didn't know; the smells in the air clashed and made it impossible to scent the infuriating man. The same could be said for listening out for him and Tsume's eyes narrowed to slits in annoyance at her inability to locate him. It was one of the downfalls of being an Inuzuka; your senses, yes, were superior, some more superior than others, however, in a situation like a village-wide festival, it could be a sensory overload. Enough to drive anyone mental, really, and it drove Tsume mental simply because it could make it difficult, if not downright impossible, to locate people.

Asshole. Playing dirty tricks on me.

Okay, so he probably wasn't deliberately moving around just to piss her off, but Tsume had learnt from those tender days as young genin that when in doubt, blame Hiashi. Hyuuga tended to speak in enigmas and riddles, anyway.

Either way, Tsume was still extremely irritated with the whole situation.

A particularly vicious stab in her temple made the Inuzuka woman groan, and suddenly, it was all too much for her senses. The colours, the sounds, the smells, the thinking. She needed to get away and cool down, if not call it a night.

Looking around, Tsume couldn't find Hana, but she sussed out Kiba's whereabouts through the sheer volume of his voice. He was some way in amongst the crowd on the dance floor, attempting to coax a madly blushing Hinata into dancing properly with him, while simultaneously shouting at Shino to quit being a wimp and ask...someone to dance. Tsume took a moment to follow where she thought Shibi's son might be glancing towards (when he wasn't scowling at Kiba), and Kiba's less than subtle head movements...only to blink again and muffle a smile when she realised the someone was one Yamanaka Ino.

Well, what do you know?

What do you know, indeed. Fate, if it existed, really was a troublesome bitch - Tsume remembered quite distinctly when a certain Aburame team mate of her own had crushed helplessly on a Yamanaka clan member, a girl called Inoue, if Tsume remembered...well, she tried to remember, but her headache was making it difficult to think.

With a sigh, she looked back to her son, catching his eye and motioning in the direction of their home. He tilted his head enquiringly, before nodding and waving cheerfully. Ah, he was her boy alright - always loud, always cheerful and inquisitive.

Knowing Kiba would make Hana aware of their mother's wherabouts, Tsume gratefully left the festivities. Once she was in the blissful quiet of the main street (empty as it was during a festival), Tsume groaned and lifted her hands to her head, pressing her palms into her temples. Ugh, too much noise, too much colour, too much damn thinking. Stupid Hyuuga.

The thought of him was enough to set her temper off again, and with a growl, Tsume shook her head and began the walk home, or rather, began to storm her way home, muttering invectives and swear words both mentally and verbally as she did so.

She wasn't so focused on her inner tirade that she didn't sense what was around her, though. Within moments of walking down the dark streets, she became horribly aware of something...someone...well, stalking her. The Inuzuka woman paused midstep, eyes dilating slightly as they looked around in the dark. Her hand closed around the kunai she'd kept strapped to her leg under her kimono, and despite her headache, her senses were on high alert. Hearing, looking, scenting...

Sandalwood. The earthier scent of sweat and masculinity.

Tsume smiled ironically and whirled around, kunai flashing in the air as it plunged for it's target. Only to be stopped mid-plunge by a cousin of its own, and the deadly objects grated sickeningly in the dark against one another.

"You seem a bit bothered, Tsume-sama."

His expression was as serenely haughty as always (only Hyuuga Hiashi could do serene and haughty together), tone seemingly neutral, but Tsume knew better; she could hear the faintest traces of amusement in that low voice, see the slightest twitch of mouth and the glint of laughing mockery in those pale violet eyes, laughing mockery that likely matched the glint in her own dark gaze. There was something else, too, something very familiar, and against her will, Tsume found her entire being responding to it, right down to the sharp retort that would surely be nothing if not provocative.

"Oh, because you'd just know so much about what makes me bothered, Hiashi-sama," she growled, deliberately placing emphasis on the honorific just as he had. Some things never changed, and that was one of them.

Not much else changed, either. It was the same old dance; they stood there, face to face, staring the other down over the glint of kunai, waiting for the one who would decide the outcome of their little battle.

This time, Hiashi took the initiative. Clenching his fist so she was forced to lower her own kunai with his own, he leant down, wasting no time as he pulled her into a hungry kiss. That was Hiashi, for you; he could be a reticient bastard, but when he wanted something, he damn well got it. Which was surprising, because in such a public place, Hiashi never took the initiative.

She wasn't complaining, though. Which was ironic, considering she'd been wishing death upon him only moments before. But nor was she content to let him take the lead, and Tsume growled lightly in the back of her throat, forcing her body to work even as her mind became blissfully blank, clawed hands bunching into the Hyuuga leader's haori as she deepened the kiss with almost feral ferocity. She was barely aware of their surroundings...the cool breeze, the dark street, the possibility that someone would see the Hyuuga leader and the Inuzuka mistress caught in a most compromising position...

And then she felt Hiashi's hands move behind her back, and the breeze was gone. The lighting was still dim, but there was no wooden floor under her feet instead of dirt road. A brief inhalation of the smells around her (what wasn't taken up by Hiashi's scent, anyway) told Tsume they were...in her room.

She smiled ironically. Of course, propriety. Even if it was unconventional, Kami forbid Hyuuga Hiashi ever forwent propriety. Even if she could see the point behind it, knew as acutely as anyone...ugh, too many thoughts. Too much of the wrong thoughts considering the present moment.

So rather than dwell on them, Tsume did what she did best, and that was provide a distraction. Pulling back from Hiashi's surprisingly possessive embrace, the Inuzuka woman arched an eyebrow at him, managing a perfect copy of his haughtiest look despite the fact she was half-blind with lust, with hair a bigger mess than usual and lips dark and swollen from the prolonged kiss. Not to mention her kimono, which had already found it's way past her shoulders.

"Hyuuga, the fact that you know the exact coordinates to my room is just-"

She was cut off by a quiet growl and another kiss, this one leaving her completely breathless. Damned Hyuuga, playing tricks like that...and then she felt long fingered, strong hands already working against the dips of her back, pressing, massaging, stroking and...oh. A moan escaped her lips when those hands found the exact point above her tailbone that turned her to mush, and another sound somewhere between a purr and a sigh sounded deep in the Inuzuka mistress's throat, causing the damned Hyuuga to grin, yes, actually grin against her cheek in response. Even if it was a smug grin.

"Perhaps and perhaps not, my little fool," he murmured huskily in her ear, causing her to squirm in delight at the sound. It was so much better to listen to than the sounds of the festival; it always had the same effect on her, Hiashi's voice, heating her entire being up while somehow making her feel like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her, all at the same time. Even if she was meant to be pissy with him. Vaguely, she wondered if he was referring to her comment about being hot and bothered, or on the one about knowing the coordinates of her room.

And then his mouth claimed hers again, with renewed hunger and all thoughts of formality and propriety - thoughts in general, really - flew completely out the window. But Tsume could not be bothered caring anymore.