Can you write a promp where ShikaTema hold their son for the very first time? I really love the promp you already write, it's so lovely :D
God I really hope I didn’t go overboard with this one. I hope you enjoy it!
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They paced. Both of them up and down the hall like bullets ricocheting in a cycle of worry and frustration, listening to the screams that became more and more unbearable by the minute. The noise, the shouting, the piercing, near-incoherent cries of the woman they loved so dearly was almost enough to drive them insane.
It was unimaginable to them how he felt having to listen to it.
Kankuro watched as linoleum clicked and creaked beneath his brother-in-law’s endlessly tapping foot, his leg bouncing up and down without any sign of stopping. The anxiety that had clearly flooded his leg seemed to have bypassed his face, but Kankuro knew that under that stone, nonchalant expression he was panicking big time.
But he had to question whether the clan leader fully understood why they were so afraid. Did he know what they knew? Was Shikamaru scared for the same reason as he and his younger brother were?
It’s taken him all night to understand, but yes, he now knew. Oh, God, did he know, and it frightened almost all signs of life from his body.
Shikamaru had told himself - no, conditioned himself as to how he would act when this day finally came. Stay calm, collected and positive and it will all be fine. She’s strong and she’s smart; she’ll have no trouble.
Of course, that was so much easier said than done now he was here, confined to the corridor after his eldest brother-in-law had got them thrown out of the waiting room, and waiting for a sign, a silence, or a scream that the end was here.
But it wasn’t coming. After every shout, every stomach-wrenching howl of his name that his wife called came not a silence or a gentle cry, but another, more intense scream. He didn’t know if it scared him or simply just tore him apart to hear her in such excruciating pain, especially for so long.
Fourteen hours they’d been here, waiting for the birth of a single child, and here he was complaining. The last nine of these hours had been spent away from his wife’s side, after being told by some “pretentious wanker of a doctor” as Kankuro had affectionately come to refer to him as that Temari ‘needed space’ for a while, and that they needed him ‘out of the way’.
Leaving was what set him into panic mode, and suddenly he began to race about his mind, running from the same fear as the two Suna-nin in front of him.
As Gaara finally swooped into the seat beside him, Shikamaru watched Kankuro’s pace slow down. The oldest of the men eyed him with the same look he gave on most visits, but this time it was full of concern, too. On top of the usual, “hurt my sister and I snap you” persona, was a much more gentle touch this time.
He knew better than either of the others the effects their biggest fear.
After all, as much as Gaara had felt those effects, Kankuro had been the one to experience the toughest aftermath of his mother dying in childbirth. He and Temari had to hear those words, learn that he’d never feel his mothers gentle fingers through his hair again, or her arms around his trembling body after grazing his knee as toddlers do.
It made him sick to just remember, and he didn’t want to lose his sister, too.
Both Suna men’s heads snapped up, shocked by the two words they heard, praying they weren’t from the mouth of a medical-nin.
Instead Shikamaru slumped even further forward, his hands fiercely gripping his hair as he looked from one brother to the other with blood-shot eyes. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault,” he growled, gritting his teeth through his tears. “If it weren’t for me she wouldn’t be here, in pain, in danger…”
“Shikamaru, stop,” sighed Gaara. He clasped a hand on his shoulder, shaking, but hoped the father-to-be wouldn’t notice the gentle shake of his palm. “If she found out you were being this way what would she say?”
A silence followed. One which Shikamaru was too scared, too focussed on the echoing cries of his wife, to fill.
“She’d tell him to man up,” whispered Kankuro, his own voice a groggy mess. “But, Gaara what if she doesn't—”
“She’s going to make it,” hissed Shikamaru so quietly but piercingly. “She has to make it. I can’t raise a child on my own. I can't—”
“She will. She’s strong.”
It was clear that the Kazekage would be the one to stay most level-headed, so the other two trusted his word and nodded gently in unison as they listened to the ongoing drone of Temari’s shrill screams.
But then, in a sudden second, it stopped.
Shikamaru’s head shot up, his body tense and up off the seat without a hint of delay. “Please,” he murmured, bunching up his fists in his pockets. “Please, Temari. Be okay.”
Then came the cries, and the soft laugh of a breathless, tired woman. And all at once, the fear was gone - wiped away in a single stroke of sound - shortly followed by a medic appearing in the doorway.
“Would the father like to meet his child?”
He spun to meet the eyes of his wife’s brothers, who looked at him with joy and relief, asking them without the need for words if it was okay to make them wait a moment. Kankuro chuckled, waving him away to do as he pleased, whilst Gaara softly smiled with a gentle nod.
At that, he wasted no time.
It had been so many hours since he’d been in the room that Shikamaru had almost forgotten how blinding the white lights and walls were, though he was sure they’d now been dimmed. Still, a single light shone bright from the other side of the room as he strolled in, hands in pockets with an unbeatable grin on his face.
Temari’s eyes didn’t lift for she hadn’t notice her husband’s arrival. Her teal orbs tiredly glistened with happiness, far too focussed as she looked down at the bundle blankets in her arms. She had almost entirely forgotten the sweat that caked over her skin in a sheer, cold mess in favour of the beautiful life that squirmed in her arms.
“You look like shit.”
Her head shot up as fast as one who has almost no energy left can manage, and her gaze locked on his without a second thought. “So do you,” she retorted with a humourless smile. “Also, don’t swear in front of the baby.”
“It’s like four minutes old.” Shikamaru shuffled forward, sitting beside her on the bed. “It can’t understand me.”
Temari chuckled and leant her head on his shoulder. “Stop calling your son, ‘it’, Shikamaru.”
“Yeah, your son. Go on, hold him.”
Shikamaru finally looked down at the baby that wriggled in his wife’s arms, and took in the features he could already recognise. It shocked him how much the little boy looked like he did when he was born, which he only knew from the many troublesome pictures and walkthroughs his mother had given him and Temari on how to handle a new baby.
His instincts - or whatever he had of them - took over as he weaved an arm under the baby’s head and body, slowly lifting him and holding him against his chest. He could feel his gentle breaths on the back of his wrist while the baby gargled and clicked it’s lips, but slowly the sounds began to cease as he calmed down.
Too scared to move, Shikamaru just stared down at his son, gently brushing the tiny strands of black hair around the top of his head. “He’s…he’s…”
Before Shikamaru could finish, he heard the gentle mumbles of his wife as she saw her brothers come trough the doorway. They ran to her side and congratulated her, kissing her forehead and hair with such delicacy Shikamaru could never have managed in such an elated state as this.
He looked once again into the face of the bundle in his arms, holding him tighter, but still ever so gently. A soft splutter came from the baby’s mouth as he almost nuzzled into his father’s chest on his own accord, and Shikamaru felt his eyes tear up with joy.
Carefully, he lifted the little boy higher so he could lean down and press a soft kiss on the top of his head, before running his thumb across his forehead and body. He was so tiny, but that didn’t stop the little baby grabbing at his thumb blindly.
Shikamaru let him, grinning without any sign of stopping, and letting the tears seep out and down his face without a care. The tiny pressure on his thumb almost distracted him too much, but he managed to remember the name he and Temari had chosen if he was a little boy.
The blonde woman looked over at her husband, a mess of smiles and wet eyes and felt her heart flutter as she heard him utter the very same words she’d hoped hear.
“Welcome to the world…Shikadai.”