#47: Fanfic? Prompt: Coordinate Geometry
Author: nerrin
Rating: PG, I guess. Or Gen.
Fandom/Pairing: OC, but I'm not sure who I'm writing. .__."
Summary: After school, and coordinate geometry is a waste of their time.
I apologise in advance if your eyes are sporked. Told you I was ficcing the textbook.
------
"As much as I'd love to hug you, I'm afraid this question needs to be answered."
"Asking for death again?"
"No matter," you waved my snappish assumptions away to the spring winds. The timetable called whilst the insistent, shrill ring of the bell demanded us get off our lazy asses and to the next class. "I have coordinate geometry to finish. Help me?"
"No."
"Please? The worksheet? It was due..." pausing, you made a ridiculous, effusive show of counting weeks - or months - on your slender fingers.
They were fit more for a grand piano and a sonata than a ballpoint pen.
"...Since two weeks ago."
You caught me staring. "What an acheivement."
"So you'll help?"
"Please stop trying. Go away, nuisance."
"...Gradients."
A bargain? Well, fine. Have it your way.
"Your tie," I held out my hand, tone matter-of-fact.
Pervert, the amused look on your face told me. Gladly, the tone of your voice spoke.
"Fine," you said.
As soon as your fingers began to work to loosen the silk, I cut in - "Don't take it off."
"...Excuse me?" You actually sounded quite disappointed. The hell.
The classroom was empty by now. Wonderful. Empty desks, stained whitebard, cluttered and cheap plastic chairs - I was sitting on one and you were splayed all over at least two tables, limbs everywhere - overly casual with a disregard for discipline.
Damn you; put your feet down, don't breathe into my face, wear your shirt properly.
You were close enough, the distance - oxygen and bacteria, not fabric - between was a malediction. I merely stretched - and yanked.
Contrary to popular belief, you didn't fall forward. The tablelegs screeched their protest as you grasped and fumbled around for a proper hold before settling on trying to bring myself down with you.
"Oi," I grabbed that infernal, loosened tie of yours, straightening it. The gold crest of the school gleamed in the dim lighting. So stuffy - I paused, wiping sweat from my eyes - and I could tell you felt the same way. Besides, in that sort of position after almost being defenestrated, I'm sure your legs were quite uncomfortable. Wonderful.
"This," I traced the straight angle formed by the tie, up fabric, across seams, and poked the base of your neck. Stabbed at it, actually. "Is a line. A line has a gradient."
"Teen abuse," you whined, critical. "What sort of lesson is this, sensei? Show more love ~ I'm your student, you know."
They say ignorance was bliss.
"The line cuts two points, most of the time. Each point has an x-coordinate, and similarly, a y-coordinate."
"Sensei."
I jerked irritably on the tie and you were forced closer. "The formula of a gradient is y1-y2 over x1-x2."
The field outside was quiet, everyone busy with dissecting creatures for Biology. So peaceful, so quiet, so much like after-school hours.
You arched an eyebrow, maddeningly amused. "So simple? You smart little boy."
The chiming of bells in the distance. Cold, misty and overcast - it's going to rain.
Two fingers of mine had somehow found their way to the knot of your tie, curling around and edging the thing loose - Intention being If you want to do it, at least do it properly. I loosened a breath, an almost-growl.
So dark, the air.
"Re-tie this, or I'll have your head tomorrow."
-End-
Rating: PG, I guess. Or Gen.
Fandom/Pairing: OC, but I'm not sure who I'm writing. .__."
Summary: After school, and coordinate geometry is a waste of their time.
I apologise in advance if your eyes are sporked. Told you I was ficcing the textbook.
------
"As much as I'd love to hug you, I'm afraid this question needs to be answered."
"Asking for death again?"
"No matter," you waved my snappish assumptions away to the spring winds. The timetable called whilst the insistent, shrill ring of the bell demanded us get off our lazy asses and to the next class. "I have coordinate geometry to finish. Help me?"
"No."
"Please? The worksheet? It was due..." pausing, you made a ridiculous, effusive show of counting weeks - or months - on your slender fingers.
They were fit more for a grand piano and a sonata than a ballpoint pen.
"...Since two weeks ago."
You caught me staring. "What an acheivement."
"So you'll help?"
"Please stop trying. Go away, nuisance."
"...Gradients."
A bargain? Well, fine. Have it your way.
"Your tie," I held out my hand, tone matter-of-fact.
Pervert, the amused look on your face told me. Gladly, the tone of your voice spoke.
"Fine," you said.
As soon as your fingers began to work to loosen the silk, I cut in - "Don't take it off."
"...Excuse me?" You actually sounded quite disappointed. The hell.
The classroom was empty by now. Wonderful. Empty desks, stained whitebard, cluttered and cheap plastic chairs - I was sitting on one and you were splayed all over at least two tables, limbs everywhere - overly casual with a disregard for discipline.
Damn you; put your feet down, don't breathe into my face, wear your shirt properly.
You were close enough, the distance - oxygen and bacteria, not fabric - between was a malediction. I merely stretched - and yanked.
Contrary to popular belief, you didn't fall forward. The tablelegs screeched their protest as you grasped and fumbled around for a proper hold before settling on trying to bring myself down with you.
"Oi," I grabbed that infernal, loosened tie of yours, straightening it. The gold crest of the school gleamed in the dim lighting. So stuffy - I paused, wiping sweat from my eyes - and I could tell you felt the same way. Besides, in that sort of position after almost being defenestrated, I'm sure your legs were quite uncomfortable. Wonderful.
"This," I traced the straight angle formed by the tie, up fabric, across seams, and poked the base of your neck. Stabbed at it, actually. "Is a line. A line has a gradient."
"Teen abuse," you whined, critical. "What sort of lesson is this, sensei? Show more love ~ I'm your student, you know."
They say ignorance was bliss.
"The line cuts two points, most of the time. Each point has an x-coordinate, and similarly, a y-coordinate."
"Sensei."
I jerked irritably on the tie and you were forced closer. "The formula of a gradient is y1-y2 over x1-x2."
The field outside was quiet, everyone busy with dissecting creatures for Biology. So peaceful, so quiet, so much like after-school hours.
You arched an eyebrow, maddeningly amused. "So simple? You smart little boy."
The chiming of bells in the distance. Cold, misty and overcast - it's going to rain.
Two fingers of mine had somehow found their way to the knot of your tie, curling around and edging the thing loose - Intention being If you want to do it, at least do it properly. I loosened a breath, an almost-growl.
So dark, the air.
"Re-tie this, or I'll have your head tomorrow."
-End-