Work Text:
Within a minute, the department knew that Nara had screwed something up.
He did this month after month. He opened the pages of Sabaku Inc., looked at them and remained silent. A day, two. One afternoon he left, mumbling about how problematic the web system was; the next morning he was found over a completely overworked website, over which the rest of the team marveled because of how good it was. He improved what he could improve and made clearer what even his html skills couldn't save. Finishing the design cost him nothing if he did not count bribing Gaara with sweets – the local graphic design artist with the face of a mass murderer and the sweetest tooth. Fortunately, there were candy machines right in the hallway, along the entire wall.
The team then rejoiced for an hour – if the grateful, grave silence of the six programmers could be called rejoicing.
And then it happened. First they heard staccato of two sharp needles. The owner of the shoes, the whole building, and everyone's employee contract was striding down the stairs. She took the handle. Aburame, sitting near the entrance, mechanically picked up his belongings from the ground and shifted his chair. The door flew wide open and swooshed in the air. It banged the wall. The plaster sprinkled on the floor.
The entire cellar held its breath. One by one, the men hunched over the keyboards, leafed through their personal organizer without a single comma on the pages in sight, and scrambled for their dirty cups, shoving them into the nearest drawer. Others kicked rubbish somewhere where it wouldn't be visible, under their desks and behind the bins. Gaara, the brother of the merciless goddess standing at the door, put aside his hard-earned Snickers, and he looked not only dark, but as though he remembered the war in Vietnam.
"Nara!" said Temari's sharp army alto.
Without confirming his whereabouts with a dull "Here," Sabaku no Temari spotted him and went after him like a beast of prey. While walking, she managed to explain why he was impertinent, useless, as he was threatened with pay penalties. A litany of why his improvement on the website caused more wrong than good rained on him and since she had not given the order herself, it was against the needs of Sabaku Inc.
Monitors faded and blinked.
Temari finished talking. Satisfied with herself, she folded her arms. Shikamaru looked away from her.
"Is that all?" he drawled.
“No, it's not all, Nara. You are now going to rework the entire page to its original form. Go on, ”she gestured to the computer.
He smiled politely, it was a sour smile. If Temari hated something, it was when people smile. She hated smiling during working hours even more. Shikamaru knew so and he smiled more naively.
"Wipe that grin off your face," Temari advised.
Shikamaru didn't stop smiling until she left the office.
He did this month after month.