Photogenic Reality

Before I say anything, I just wanna clarify that I hadn't read 'Konoha Kara No Dansei' before I started writing this. I wrote the first two chapters ages ago and just decided to throw them up here. If the author Grindell reads this, sorry if it seems that I'm copying your idea and your work. I never had that intention. Thanks to Hakai for letting me know about it.

But anyway...

Second part! Just so you know, I'm not sure how many chapters there's gonna be...I'm kinda making it up as I go along, dunno if you've noticed -_-;;

Umm...there's mild Sakura bashing in this chappie...but I didn't really mean it. I seriously adore her. It's just...blah...

Anyways, enjoy...and I don't need to beg for reviews, right? It makes me feel desperate. Like 'FEED MY EGO!!' or something...but if you could take the time, please :D


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"Woah! I-I'm sorry!!" Shikamaru yelled at the now closed door, behind which stood two half naked, no doubtedly pissed off girls.

"It's okay, Shika-kun! Come in if you want to!" he heard one of them call out. He frowned. He knew they weren't really alright with it. But he could report them to Jiraiya and sever them of any ties to the modelling world for life in doing so. So they had to be on their best behaviour.

"No, it's okay. Just come out when you're ready," he sighed, walking back over to his camera, fiddling with the lens a little to pass the time.

He'd been working here a month now. A month! It felt like a day! Things had moved so fast around him, in a bright blur of camera flashes, VIP A-list parties and declined offerings of different jobs in rivaling companies and cocaine.

He'd felt the pressure at first, so many hands reaching out, wanting to shake his. Apparently, news had travelled by Tsunade's mouth around the fashion circut that he was the real deal. A completely competent photographer, minus the ego, minus the annoying artisticly flamboyant flair, minus the 'I-know-what-I'm-doing-so-fuck-off' attitude. Innocence intact, but minus the naievity, which worked a whole lot better for him. People were able to take him seriously, but still have a little fun around him. He commanded a little authority over his shoots, but mainly left most up to the models, letting them do and wear what felt comfortable, or whatever was being advertised.

And his work had always been commented on by the professionals, passed off as 'momentary beauty, captured for eternity'. Might Gai, head of public relations, had quoted as such. How the hell someone could have that much passion for life after working in the business where all that mattered was looks for so many years, he'd never know. His apprentice, Rock Lee, was that his name? Well anyway, he was almost as bad...he'd obviously chosen Gai as his idol the moment they'd met. Honestly, he worked in one of the most fashionable places in the country, and that bowl-cutted, eyebrow ridden, spandex loving freak of nature was the one he'd chosen to base his look on?!

Shikamaru sighed again. He needed a shower, bad. He'd been up all night developing photos in the dark room he'd fitted in his apartment, after deciding that a dining room wasn't really that nessecary after all since he rarely ever ate anymore. Even when he did it was just pizza he ordered in from the place beneath his apartment.

"Hold still!" he heard Kankuro growl yet again. Apparently Jiraiya's girls we're getting restless. Shikamaru took a deep breath, his third that evening. This was his first glamour shoot; a well known intarnationally published mens magazine had made Tsunade an offer and she had assigned Shikamaru to the job, claiming this would be a great opportunity for him to experiment.

He'd shrugged, accepting the task without any real emotion. But he was a little nervous...they were going to be half naked in front of him...something seemed deeply wrong about this. But he couldn't back out now.

"Hai, hai! I'm ready!" Sakura announced, waltzing into the room wrapped up in a huge fluffy white dressing gown, pink fluffy high heels clicking the floor as she walked. Kankuro chased after her, applying one more layer of lipgloss to her as she got herself into position.

"Now, now, Sakura. Be nice, this is Shika-kun's first time, remember?" Jiraiya warned, making her smile sweetly at them both.

"Of course, Jira-sama! How do you want me, Shika-kun?" she asked, sugar-coating her voice to make it extra sweet, pouting her lips to effectively catch the light.

"Uh...c-can you lie down for me? No, no, put your head there. On your stomach, yeah..." he rambled. This wasn't so bad...he hadn't even realised she was only wearing a tiny pink thong yet.

"God damnit, Sakura, I'm gonna kill you one of these days!" Kankuro raged, storming over and fixing her blush as she bit back a retort, keeping her sickly sweet expression directed at the camera. Apparently, she had a habit of rubbing her make up off everywhere.

"Very nice, Sakura...very nice..." Jiraiya commented, nodding his approval as he stood behind Shikamaru, who's mind was whirring with images he wanted to create. He used his, now trademark, soothing voice as he commanded her into different positions and poses. Kiba had mentioned on his last shoot that he liked Shikamaru's voice when he was taking pictures, and Naruto, who'd been sharing a studio with him at the time had agreed.

Kiba...

Shit, his finger had slipped and he'd missed the image. No matter, she was still the same way. But now he wasn't focused. Kiba was rapidly taking over his mind again. He hated it when this happened, not that it was a very regular occurence.

"Right. I think we're ready for Ino now," he said, voice shaking slightly as he tried to clear his mind for the next session, changing his memory card as Ino stepped over the number of cables and wires on the floor to take up Sakura's former space. "Actually, Ino, would you mind standing?" he asked in passing, still concentrating on the camera functions. She stood up, dropping her robe, Jiraiya grabbing it for her and pulling it out of shot.

"That's right, fold your arms. Quirk your eyebrow a little more, yeah. Um...right leg in front, point the left a little more off to the side," he said, face scrunched against the camera as he began clicking.

"Shikamaru, when you're done, I want a word," Tsunade's voice called from the studio door.

"Okay," he called, not looking up for fear of losing his moment again. He waited to hear the door close, announcing her departure, for the que for him to start up again, but it never came. He heard her sharp pointed heels strut over to stand beside Jiraiya, and heard quiet incoherant mutterings behind his back. Honestly...so troublesome.

Wow, he hadn't said that in a while. He'd been working too hard...even those parties Tsunade had dragged him to so she could show him off felt like work. All that fake smiling, laughing at un-funny jokes, drinking simply to ease the annoyance of being there.

"Sakura, come back for a couple of shots," he ordered, not moving and still clicking as she walked over.

"I love the way his little feet cross over like that..." he heard Tsunade's voice say fondly. He blushed in spite of himself. She was still acting like a perfect angel towards him, but he was counting the days until he felt her wrath. Not that he hadn't seen it. Sasuke and Gaara seemed to enrage her to no end, simply for not listening and playing by their own rules, and Naruto pissed her off even more by not paying any attention to her ego, calling her old and a has-been and such. Not something a former model wants to hear. Ever.

Uncrossing his feet (a habit he despised yet couldn't seem to quit) he walked over to get a few close ups of the girls as they hugged, sending giggling, flirtatious glances at the camera.

"Okay, I'm done. I'll just drop these off at the darkroom and I'll be right with you, Tsunade-sama," he said, forcing a happy smile and exiting the room, sighing as the doors closed behind him.

What did she want, now? She'd been so demanding of him since he'd been working here. She insisted that it was because she wanted to show him off, since he was suddenly so sought after, but he figured that it was because half of the other exclusive photographers (of which there weren't all that many) hardly ever turned up.

"Ohayo, Shikamaru-kun!" Rock Lee shouted as he exited Gai's office, a bundle of documents in one arm, the other flailing spastically above his head in greeting. Shikamaru smiled and nodded, watching as the odd boy walked over to wait for the elevator with him. "I heard you had you're first glamour shoot today. How did it go?" he asked. Shikamaru smiled in spite of himself.

"Great, I was nervous beforehand, but once I realised that it was the same as the ones I've done before it was fine," he said. Lee smiled and nodded, stepping into the elevator behind Shikamaru and pressing the button for level eight, two above Shikamaru's chosen floor.

"The glamour models are usualy nice on a first shoot," he commented. Shikamaru nodded, watching the screen above the sliding glass doors as it flicked past the other floors.

"Well Jiraiya-sama was present so..." he trailed off, subconciously crossing his feet over again. Lee nodded.

"I'm sure they'd respect you as an artist even if he wasn't. Gai-sensei told me about your work. He said he hasn't seen such beautiful photographs of our models since Orochimaru worked here," he said with an encouraging nod. Shikamaru felt his ego swell a tiny amount before he heard the bell, announcing he had arrived at level six. "See you later, Shikamaru-kun!" he said happily, Shikamaru turning and smiling before making his way down the narrow hall to the darkrooms.

He'd heard about Orochimaru, obviously. One of the most famous photographers in the world. He couldn't help but feel a little proud at the fact that he came from the same town as the Nara family, perhaps it was his patriotism. And his work was absolutely beautiful, the type of thing Shikamaru knew all artists craved to acheive. But he also knew that something had happened several years ago that had caused him to leave Konoha Agency and start up his own business, specialising in photography and art prints. From what he'd heard, the business was doing very well. Nothing to rival Konoha, though.

"Ahh, are these the glamour pics from earlier?" a voice asked. He blinked, staring up at Chouji Akimichi who ruled this floor. He nodded, smiling dumbly. Chouji laughed and motioned for him to come inside, flicking the light on in the empty room.

"You heard, then?" he asked, setting the cards down on a counter and watching as Chouji wiped his hands clean of potato chip crumbs.

Being in a pitch black room all day had quite an effect of one's mental well-being, the lack of natural light draining all motivation and happiness out of a person. Therefore it was nessecary to find a way of combatting the forced depression on ones self. Chouji's way was comfort eating. Shikamaru had seen several people look at Chouji strangely, even in disgust, on the rare occasions he ventured outside the dark rooms. But he supposed that was natural, they were all obsessed with 'size zero' and bull shit like that. Shikamaru, himself, slightly admired Chouji about his thick skinned approach to the things people said about his appearance, simply stating that if he didn't do his job, they wouldn't be able to do theirs.

Shikamaru agreed wholly. Over the last month he'd spent quite a lot of time here, obviously. And in doing so had become something of a companion to Chouji, and vice-versa. Shino, another guy who worked in the department under Chouji, was quiet and reserved, but still good to talk to when he felt like it.

"Who hasn't heard? Seriously, the whole floor's been going nuts, wanting to see how you make them look," Chouji said, smiling widely as he fingered the memory cards, inspecting closely for any signs of damage.

Shikamaru smiled at this. He knew how the photograph developers, the strange, slightly freaky inhabitants of cold, dark rooms, felt about the models they processed pictures of every day. Chouji in particular had a slight detest for the glamour girls, simply for the names they called him. Though he had his fun too, renaming them 'airbrained bitches' at every chance he got.

"Well, I don't think I did too bad, sorry..." he said, half a smirk adorning his face lazily as he watched Chouji start on his work.

"Eww...you can see right up her nose in this one..." he commented, clicking madly at the computer in front of him. Shikamaru laughed and jumped down from his seat.

"I gotta go. Tsunade wants me for something. I'll drop by later, though," he said, waving a hand over his shoulder as he exited, hearing a laugh from within as the door closed behind him. He smiled. That picture he was looking at had been taken with the developer in mind; Sakura stretched across the pink and white fluffy pillows, taking on a twisted, shocked expression. She looked like a complete idiot, and Shikamaru had meant it so.

Punching the 'up' button he waited, handing in his pockets as he examined the floor key beside the elevator doors.

Level One - Reception and Guests Lounge - a horribly plain alcove off the main hall way, white leather sofas and white lillies dotted about the sparse area, several photographs adorning the walls and a large screen TV in the corner, constantly churning out mindless fashion shows. Kotetsu and Izumo, the security guards, often changed the chanel to music shows late at night, using the lounge as a place to relax and occasionally sleep when the nights were quiet. Anko, the head receptionist, often scolded them for this, but sometimes joined in whenever they had sweet things to snack on.

Level Two - Studios 20-18 and Cafeteria - as if anyone ever ate in this place.

Level Three - Studios 17-15 and Public Relations Office.

Level Four - Department of Hair, Department of Make Up and Studios 14-12 - Kankuro, who had taken over as Head of Make Up when Orochimaru had left, had proved to be less of a bitch than he let on, often joking with Shikamaru when he wasn't freaking out over eyelash curlers. Kakashi had made a few appearances at shoots, but nothing Shikamaru would consider a proper conversation. He'd seen Hinata running about several times, but she always had time to flash him a nervous smile and a quick passing comment of greeting.

Level Five - Department of Fashion and Studios 11-9 - Iruka was a sweetheart, Shikamaru had no shame in admitting that. Always flouncing over what to put on who, and constantly poring over his book of creations. And, more often than not, shamelessly fawning over Kakashi when ever he was present.

Level Six - Department of Photographic Development and Department of Technology.

Level Seven - Department of Glamorous Photography and Studios 8-6 - Shikamaru was still a little wary of Jiraiya, positive in his first impressions that he was a one-track-minded pervert and nothing more. However he did seem to do very well with everything Tsunade threw his way, and anyone able to control that amount of bitchy estrogen had to be at least a little intelligent.

Level Eight - Model Base and Studios 5-3 - the model base was simply a common room dedicated to giving the models who were working some time and peace. Small nail bars and a mini hair salon were included in the vast hall, complete with mini bar and several game consoles and tables, with DVD players and TV's dotted around. He'd never visited it personally, but had walked past more than a few times, taking quick glances inside.

Level Nine - Research Office and Department of Printing and Production - he didn't really know what went on here, having only visited the floor once. But he figured if was probably something to do with sending out model portfolios and dealing with offers from magazines and such.

Level Ten - Studios 1 + 2 and Presidential Office - Shikamaru smirked. The stupid frosted glass plate made her sound like royalty.

The elevator arrived, allowing him to step inside and press the button for ten. What could she want him for now? He brooded over this as the bell dinged in the corner, announcing his journey to a close.

He could have an important engagement to attend to.

'C'mon, Nara. You've had nothing in your life apart from work for the last month. When the hell've you had times to make plans, and with who, no less?!' he jibbed himself. Frowning at the fact that he was arguing with himself again he knocked on the huge doors, pushing them open without a response.

"Ohayo, Shizune-san," he said, casting her a small smile as he tried to get a peek inside Tsunade's office. The PA smiled in greeting and nodded for him to go through.

"She's just been lecturing some out-of-town reporters, so excuse her if she's a little short with you," she explained. He smiled a little more, shifting through the doors to stand in the background silently until he was called forwards.

"Ahh, Shikamaru! See, this," she said, striding over and grabbing both his shoulders, thrusting him toward the three strangers in the room, "this is a photographer," she said loudly. He blushed, wriggling out of her harsh grasp and standing back, bowing slightly to her.

"You...uh, you called for me, Tsunade-sama...?" he asked. She nodded brisquely, gesturing for him to sit. Her cold nod was the signal for the three strange men to leave.

"You've been working for us...a month now, am I correct?" she asked, taking a seat behind her desk, which Shikamaru still thought was absolutely ridiculous in size, and resting her chin easily on interlocked fingers. He nodded, frowning slightly and wondering where she could be going with this.

"Yeah, about a month, I guess," he said, suddenly uneasy at her nod as she stared into his eyes, almost unblinkingly as she seemed to search for something. A sign, perhaps, of any protest to anything she was about to suggest.

"Well, I was thinking. You're a fantastic photographer, Shikamaru-kun, but you don't need me to tell you that. Ask anyone in this damn building!" she said with a grin, leaning back in her ridiculously large chair. He didn't know whether to nod in agreement or thank her for the kind words. So he stayed silent, deciding that it would be less troublesome, in case she began talking at the same time as him.

"All the models adore you, in a fashion...you see, they only know you as 'Shikamaru the Photographer', you know? The man who takes pictures. I want them to know more about the person behind the camera. I do this with every photographer, I hope you understand. I feel a sense of relation between model and artist often helps along with things. However, if you feel this would create unwanted boundaries between your work and your social life, please don't even consider it," she said, resting her head back and watching him lazily.

He thought for a moment, taking in everything she'd just said. True, sometimes he did like to know the model a little better. But he'd always been taught to look at the subjects of his art as simply a piece of clay, something to mould and play with, not something to get emotionally attatched to. He absently supposed this was how medical surgeons went to work everyday, slicing up pieces of meat as opposed to real human bodies.

"I...I suppose, Tsunade-sama..." he said softly, still contemplating the pros and cons of the issue. She beamed and stood up, causing him to do the same, and walked over to the door, holding it open for him.

"Excellent, be at the model base for around ten thirty, then. And don't be too late, they always get pissed off when someone arrives after them," she said, albeit rather hurriedly, shoving him out good-naturedly and closing the door over. He blinked, looking over to see Shizune smiling and shaking her head.

"Don't get too dressed up, either. They always get pissed off when someone looks better than them," she said softly, shifting through paperwork on her small but tidy desk.

*

"Oh, dear God..." he muttered to himself as he stared at his reflection in disgust. "Can you say 'man-whore'?" he asked himself quietly, tugging on the sleeves of his shirt hopelessly.

After several hours of wandering around the office by himself, wondering how to make himself look any different than he usualy did, he'd snapped.

Storming down to Iruka's personal office he'd asked, a little desperately, for the hyper-designer to dress him up. Iruka's kind eyes had lit up as he clapped his hands, frolicking around his massive wardrobe and pulling random things out here and there, claiming that he'd been wanting to use Shikamaru as a doll since he'd seen him.

"You're the perfect size!" he'd claimed, thrusting several hundreds of items into Shikamaru's arms, all but throwing him into a changing room in his excitement.

Now he was standing in his apartment, alone, fretting over the light green shirt Iruka had thrown at him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hate it as much as he wanted to. As Iruka had said, he suited green. It went with his olive skin well, and the wardrobe master had instructed him to leave the first three buttons undone to reveal his collar bone, which in turn accentuated his cheekbones.

The plain black pants were, thankfully, his own. At least he'd feel slightly comfortable tonight. Iruka had almost insisted on dressing him in some kind of skirt, a frightening patch work of saphire and emmerald, which reached his ankles. When Shikamaru had flat out refused, he'd sulked for a nano-second before spotting a pair of polka-dot slim fit silk pants. Shikamaru had chosen that moment to run away.

After a long shower, which he knew he fully deserved and therefore decided to take his time with, he'd contemplated on doing something with his hair. After several moments of debating whether to try and find his hairbrush or not, he'd decided against it. Too troublesome and besides, he didn't want to look as if he'd tried that hard. He didn't even know how everyone else was going to look, what they were doing, or even who was going.

He tugged on the collar again absently, wondering if Kiba would make an appearance. A small smile tugged at his lips.

He'd spoken to the loud boy a few times since their first meeting. He was one of the few models who weren't complete bitches or ego machines, along with Naruto. He'd made friends with the blond after a twenty minute shoot in the national park, and although Naruto was absolutely lovely, inside and out, Kiba had something about him that Shikamaru wanted.

He glanced at the clock, deciding he'd leave now and take his time. He didn't want to be too early, after all. It wasn't a cold night, so he could walk the fifteen minute journey to the office. Shrugging on a plain coat and stuffing his feet in the only pair of shoes he owned which weren't scuffled and worn, he glanced back at the mirror in the hallway.

"Utter man-whore...great..." he muttered cynically, glaring at his reflection as he opened to door, leaving the apartment to venture along the city's night-loving streets, neon lights and shimmering pollution dusting his way.

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Yeah...

Sorry if I don't update this for a wee while. I'm a busy bee, and also have no idea what's gonna happen next sooo...yea...

xxx