I've fallen in love with this pairing. Hidantema for the world! Highschool fic.
Rated 15/Teen for slight (but needed) swearing. ^.^;;;
Temari was, in a simple word, bored.
It wasn’t the nice boredom, either, the kind that went School’s-finally-out-for-the-holidys-what-the-heck-am-I-supposed-to-do - She would have loved that. No, unfortunately it was the: I’m-stuck-in-a-filled-to-the-seams-classroom-staring-at-my-blank-workbook-while-the-teacher-drones-on-about-the-horrors-of-food-colorings. Time seemed to have turned into treacle, each second slowly oozing by as the students of class 10A sweltered in the summer afternoon heat, the dead air lying thickly across their sweating skin. Temari kept her onyx eyes on the clock, silently willing the second hand to move faster. It had become a routine, almost, walking into the dull grey walls of the science classroom, settling herself in and watching the clock. Every single day she stared at it with the same intensity, and every single day it seemed to move even slower in return. She sighed, dragging her eyes away and back to the board, allowing them to slip out of focus as soon she saw the odd diagrams that had yet to be rubbed off from an earlier lesson. It was a miracle she still got reasonable grades for this subject, seeing as her teacher Mr Kintopolis seemed to skip from one topic to another, attempting to teach them about ionic bonding one lesson and the precautionary principle the next. Then again, that was only because her father, who had a reputation to keep, detected the slight slump in the blond haired girl’s grades a couple of months after the wayward teacher’s arrival and assigned her a tutor.
As if she didn’t have enough on her plate.
She buried her head in her arms to muffle a groan after another glance at the clock had confirmed that only ten minutes had passed since the lesson’s start, cursing her teacher under her breath for making the last lesson of everyday pure torture. It was almost as if the head teacher didn’t want them to pass, for surely it didn’t take a mastermind to see that Mr Kintopolis was obviously failing at his job. A chimpanzee could teach her more about string theory in a week than he could in a year.
“…Carotene, a light orange color, is commonly used in products such as butter…”
She expertly tuned out his droning voice and buried her head deeper into the woollen cocoon of her arms. Boredom was a fixed part of her life these days.
“…Of carotene, the most commonly used one being the beta type. But many studies have shown that if this colorant…”
An odd snorting sound to her left caught her attention and she emerged into the classroom once more, so bored that even a small noise like that provided a blissful distraction. She located the source and smiled. Kankuro had fallen asleep on his book again, a tuft of brown hair all that was visible underneath his black, cat-eared hood which had, coincidentally, fallen forward over his face. The sound rose again, slightly louder this time, and she had to resist the urge to chuckle; her dolt of a brother was snoring.
“Oi, Kuro!” She leaned towards him a little, amusement coloring her whisper. When she got no reply she rolled her eyes, casting a furtive glance towards the teacher, (who was still talking animatedly at the book in his hands and showed no signs of having heard her) before aiming a kick at the unresponsive boy. Kankuro woke with a start, lifting his head off of his book and blinking blearily around him, reaching a hand down and rubbing his sore leg. Spotting her amused look, understanding flickered across his features and he frowned.
“What th-” He started to growl, stopping mid-sentence as her foot shot his way again. Scooting across his seat a little in a vain attempt to get out of her attacking range, he glared at her again. “What was that for?”
She sighed, exasperated, keeping her voice low as she replied. “You fell asleep again, nitw-”
“Would you repeat my last sentence, pray, Temari?” Mr Kintopolis’s strained voice cut her off mid-sentence, a disapproving tone in his lilting voice. She winced inwardly, turning towards the front where he waited expectantly, permanent bed-head sticking out in an array of grey spikes over his half moon glasses.
The problem with science was not only was there a bad teacher, but the man was a strict one as well, and had no qualms about dishing out detentions to those who spoke during his lessons. He had the amazing ability to effectively reduce what could have been the equivalent of a free period into the epitome of boredness, the blight on her otherwise reasonable timetable. Biting her lip slightly, she replayed the previous moments in her mind, trying to ignore the pitying glances she received from those around her. Except for her supportive as ever brother, of course. He wasn’t even attempting to hide his smirk, obviously thinking she got what she justly deserved. She made a mental note to punch him later, for where he get off laughing at her for getting reprimanded by the teacher she had no clue, especially as he was the one that was very nearly disown- Back to lesson. Do you want a detention? She chided herself, dragging her eyes away from his mocking expression. Mr Kintopolis, remember?
Noticing the impatience slowly crawling onto her teacher’s otherwise calm features, she hurriedly returned to her memories.
Kicking Kankuro, noticing he was asleep, nearly falling asleep myself as the teacher droned on – what about? Think, Temari, think!...
It didn’t take a mastermind to tell that she was stalling. Lowering her eyes from their frantic scouring of the ceiling, she met his gaze and put forward her answer.
“…Something about beta carotene?”
Needless to say, she was given a detention on the spot.
Temari sighed as she trooped out of her final lesson for the day, exhaustion dragging at her bones as she adjusted her books into a more comfortable position. Her corset pressed uncomfortably into her chest, restricting her breathing- She knew she shouldn’t have worn black today. At least she’d worn her skirt instead of her jeans, she dreaded to think of how she would’ve managed to survive in this heat... Gazing longingly at the student-filled corridor that led out of the school gates and to freedom, she unwillingly turned away and dove into the edge of the fray, fighting against the flow. She had detention, how could she forget? Damn Kankuro. Pressing herself against the wall slightly as a bunch of seniors decided that yes, it would be a fantabulous idea to turn one of their number into a battering ram and crush everyone who happened to get in her way, she consoled herself by imagining various different ways she could kill Kankuro with a blunt butter knife, trying to distract herself from the fact that she was going to spend a sizeable chunk of her afternoon in hell. Even though it was her fault for talking, the only reason she’d opened her mouth in the first place was because the brainbox had decided to take an impromptu nap.
Yes. Kankuro must die. Simple as that.
Reaching the drab science classroom, she allowed herself a final resigned sigh before raising a hand and knocking on the scratched wood of the door. Might as well get it over with. If she was another person, she could’ve hoped that Kankuro wouldn’t tell their father the reason she was so late home. But with her luck… It was practically written in stone that she’d receive another lecture tonight. There was a long pause, Temari took this chance to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear before a nervous voice called her in. She complied, pushing open the door and raising an eyebrow slightly at the sight before her. She wasn’t the only one in detention it seemed, several other students with equally bored expressions were dotted around the room - But this wasn’t what caught her attention. Her imperious expression was sparked by the two young men standing behind the desk, one of which who was watching her anxiously, hand automatically scratching at the back of the bandanna which covered the majority of his chestnut brown hair. He and his partner were dressed in identical black suits, obviously uncomfortable in such attire. She grinned slightly despite herself, recognising the slightly panicked look of a supply teacher.
“Please sit over there, by the window.” The other one informed her, eyes sharp, pointing to where he was referring to. She dragged her eyes away from the odd bandage he had wrapped around his nose, disappearing to either side in the jelled spikes of black hair and made her way over to her seat.
What happened to Kinto?
Reaching her desk, she dragged out the chair with her foot and slid into her seat, placing her books on the table with a dull thud. The only other person near her was a senior with odd, platinum blond hair three rows behind her; the supplies had chosen our spots specifically, she guessed. Placed us far enough away from each other that trying to have a conversation was nigh on impossible. Not so bad.
She settled herself in and got to work, dragging her science book towards her and staring at the sheet she’d been given as homework. It was a piece on food additives, obviously photocopied from some centuries old text book, rambling on about the different chemicals and the like added to food before listing a collection on questions on the subject at the bottom of the sheet. She skimmed through the information and frowned at the first question, irony twisting her lips into a half smile.
What type of carotene is used as an additive and for what purpose?
She sighed mentally. Guess there really is no reprieve for the wicked, she thought, tucking her skirt more comfortably around her-
She stopped mid-sentence as something bounced off the back of her head. Puzzled, she reached back and patted the affected hair gingerly, trying to figure out what had happened. Had a fly randomly flew into the back of her head? Setting the occurrence aside as a fluke, she lowered her hand and focussed once more on her work, trying to find the part that-
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as another object deflected off of one of her ponytails, landing on the floor with a soft rustle. Turning around she glared down at the offending item, noting it was a crumpled piece of paper before fixing her gaze accusingly at the boy behind her. He was seemingly engrossed in his work, head bowed as he scribbled something in a work book, slicked back hair gleaming in the light. She was not fooled. From her vantage point she could see the smirk twitching up the sides of his thin lips.
Pushing her chair out slightly, she twisted backwards and picked up the paper, clenching it pointedly in her fist before tossing it in the bin that sat at the edge of a nearby table. Seating herself gracefully once more, she pretended to bend over her sheet, prepared for another missile. She had two brothers (although Gaara was… an exception); she knew that once they’d found a way to spark a reaction, they’d keep at it until they bored of it. She allowed herself a small grin, forcing her shoulders to loosen. If he thought she was just going to sit there and take it, he had another thing coming.
This time she was prepared for it, and the instant she felt the piece of paper collide with the back of her skull, she whipped around and trapped it in her fingers, gaze locking on the boy behind her. She caught him just as he was lowering his arm, and he grinned, wriggling his fingers in a wave. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. Transferring her anger into strength, she threw the missile back at him, catching him by surprise. It hit him right between the eyes. Cursing fluently, he raised a hand to his forehead, glaring at her with a mixture of anger and confusion.
“What the fu
ck was that for?”
She gazed back at him incredulously, eyebrows rising.
“What do you think, as
A pointed cough came from the front and she turned towards it, schooling her expression. One of the supplies, Mr Hagane if she remembered correctly, was watching them with a frown, looking up from where he’d been seated at the desk conversing with his partner.
“Please refrain from talking unless you want to be in tomorrow as well.” He informed them flatly, clearly not amused. She forced her lips into what she hoped was an apologetic smile, and returned to the sheet. She could hear the senior behind her muttering under his breath, the words: ‘******* ********,’ and ‘think they rule the pissing world…’ reaching her ears. She blanked it out with well practised ease, focussing once more on the question. There were a few blissful seconds of peace, the only sound the scribbling of pencils and the occasional cough, before-
She bristled as a piece of folded paper bounced off the top of her head, tumbling down onto her books as she struggled to control her anger. Restraining herself from growling, she picked it up to throw it away but paused. There seemed to be a message on it, written in a flowing cursive script, the word ‘blondie’ written on the top. She considered throwing it away, and nearly did after hearing a soft snicker behind her, but her curiosity got the better of her and she begrudgingly smoothed out the piece of paper.
Does he seem like he has a stick shoved up his a
ss or what? Seriously, it takes one hell of a piece of wood to get an expression like that.
She incredulously stared at the paper for a few seconds, unimpressed, before carefully crumpling it and throwing it in the bin. If he thought he was going to get a response from that, he was sorely mistaken.
The next note was a little more impatient.
Oi, Blondie! You turned to f
ucking stone or something? Seriously, is it too much to ask to make a little small talk?
I swear, these f
ucktards are taking the piss. I’m missing church to put up with this sh
She raised an eyebrow slightly at the last line. He has quite the vocabulary for a church boy, she thought, slightly surprised. Still refusing to respond like before, she delicately folded the paper back up and threw it after its predecessor.
Five minutes and a small barrage of paper later, she gave up on any hope of him taking a hint and leaving her alone and precisely wrote a reply.
Temari. Not Blondie, god boy. Why the hell are you throwing pieces of paper at the back of my head anyway?
Folding it precisely, she cast a quick glance around the classroom to mark the whereabouts of the supplies, (who were still crouching besides each other behind the desk reading the suspicious orange book) before twisting in her seat and throwing the paper at the senior. He caught it easily with one hand, an unconcealed smirk playing across his lips. She scowled in reply, eyes catching the glint of a cross through his partially open black t-shirt before she turned back to her seat. He hadn’t been joking about his church, a small part of her mind commented as she pulled her sheet towards her once more. A minute later a piece of paper made its customary bounce and landed in her lap.
She opened it reluctantly.