[FIC] ShishiTems: French Oral

[nisacharakj]

Author: nisacharakj
Characters: Uchiha Shisui, Temari
Summary: If you can't say anything nice, don't say nothing at all.



[10:30 p.m]

He was halfway through his copy of Wuthering Heights when his phone rang. It was all of ten thirty on a Saturday night. What was he doing inside on a Saturday night, you ask? Studying, that’s what. Finals were up in a week and Shisui had much to catch up on in English Literature, especially since he was squeezing that class in outside of his schedule.

He picked up without further ado and promptly smirked at the caller I.D.

“Hel-LO~ How may I help you, m’lady~?”

“…Okay, cut the crap. Listen—“

Shisui chuckled. “I’m listening~”

“I’m coming over tonight.”

“What, seriously?” Okay woah. Shisui was already scrambling out of bed to put away the clothes that were on the floor and sort of arrange his desk. “Right now?” Here’s hoping she didn’t notice the pile of dirty clothes he just kicked under his bed. And was that last week’s pizza? “What’s up?”

“French Oral. Need practice.”

Behind Temari’s voice, Shisui could hear music and laughter. Oh, it was one of those parties again: the kind of hoity toity party she couldn’t stand. But wait a minute. French Oral? Shisui’s brows hit his hairline, cogs and wheels turning in that head of his. He took a moment to glance at himself in the mirror, smoothed a palm over his abs, pushed his shoulders back a bit, and then grinned. “Sure~”

 

[11:15 pm]

About half an hour later since she had arrived, he was sat leaning against the wall next to his bed, watching her immersed in her studying. Temari was sat not too far away from him, legs crossed under her on his bed, jotting down notes in her book.

“So—“ he began, turning the page in his book.

Temari, frustrated with something to do with language structure, only frowned harder at her textbook in response, annoyed that he was trying to bring in small talk at a time like this.

“…What position is French Oral?”

Okay what?

That right there was a look of incredulity. And annoyance. And frustration. And anger. And everything bad all at once.

“Tais-toi, crétin!”

…Oh.

Uhm.

 Well now.

Shisui was expecting something he could understand but—“Oui?” That was probably the only French word he knew.

“…” Seriously? Temari didn’t know whether to laugh or to hit him.

And, of course, he wouldn’t stop there. He went on to hold Wuthering Heights up in front of him as a shield before peeking over the top of it and adding: “Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?”

…The point on Temari’s pencil broke and stabbed right through the paper.