Oneshot: Sasuke/Sakura - "Politically Incorrect"
Title: Politically Incorrect
Summary: Sakura insists, “If you’re going to win this thing Sasuke, we just have to rename you. Besides, then the guys on the football team won't even know it's you!” Sasuke scowls. He never asked for a one-woman campaign trail.
Theme: AU -- school
Prompt: Burning/ignite
Rating: T
Genres: Comedy/Dash of Fluff
Notes: In which I pictured Sakura being Sasuke’s campaign advisor at school and taking it much, much too seriously. And also what would ever happen is somebody, heavens forbid, tried to rename Saucekay something more typical. Dedicated to Sam. Hope you enjoy everybody! Comments are appreciated like always. For SasuSaku month at LJ.
"Politics is the art of looking for trouble." --Earnest Benn
★★★
“...I think we should re-name you Satoshi.”
“...”
“SA. TO. SHI. You know, I think that has a reallly nice ring to it!”
“Re-name who?” Sasuke asks, as he continues to glance idly at the article on breakthroughs in genetics in the science journal. It's almost 3:00, and they're still sitting in Hatake's classroom, finishing the extra credit assignment for Biology. Well, Sakura is finishing the assignment. Sasuke finished about fifteen minutes earlier. He's one of those eccentric people she absolutely cannot understand, because they like science. Who actually likes science?
“I said YOU, Sasuke. We’re going to re-name you something more suitable for your campaign.”
After a pause the magazine is thrown onto the desk, showing sheer disgust (or maybe just exasperation). “Sakura, I don’t think you understand.”
She smiles, all faux-sweetly. “What exactly, Sasuke-kun.” Kun? Please.
“That I have no desire to become our school president whatsoever. Whatsoever,” Sasuke stresses.
Sakura stands up in determination, and --
Smack! goes the yardstick over his desk...and the magazine. Sasuke scowls. He gives her a very pointed look as he smooths the cover (it does have to go back to the library, you know).
“If we’re going to win this thing--”
“You mean, if you’re going to win--
“I said, if WE’RE going to win this thing - ‘the campaign for student body president’, also known as TCFSBP - you’re going to have to really try to cooperate,” Sakura explains in quite the superior tone.
When Sasuke isn’t looking completely convinced and absolutely psyched like he is in her fabulous daydream, Sakura continues almost pleadingly, “Come on, Satoshi is a good name! It sounds just like a politician’s.”
Sasuke leans on one hand, gives Sakura a bored stare. “This ‘TCFSBP’ should really be ‘CFSBP’,” he says slowly. “You don’t count ‘the’ as part of an abbreviated title. And haven’t you realized that only authors and musicians rename themselves for the sake of their career, not anyone in politics?”
Sakura rolls her eyes in disgust, puts her hands on her hips. She’s looking awfully bitchy, and she’s starting to sound...quite screechy-cat-like.
“Look, Sasuke-kun.” That fake sugar again. “I’m the only one who bothered to brave your emotionless attitude and those ugly crypt keeper looks you give to help you run for president! I mean, it’s not my fault that I, er...mistakingly put your name into the roster! Who cares if all the guys on the football team hate you, they’re meatheads, and - you’re the best candidate for school president there’s ever been.” Sakura breathes heavily.
“...Are you finished?”
“Well at least if we re-name you the guys on the football team won’t know who’s actually running. There. Now I’m done,” Sakura says, sitting down and clasping her hands while eying him a bit hawkishly.
Sasuke leans back. Distantly, he thinks he can feel a headache coming on. “I never asked for a one-woman campaign trail,” he points out levelly, voice sour.
Sakura sighs. Then, in a genuinely kind tone says, “I promise I’ll do a good job. And make you sound like you’re not emotionally stunted when you have to take the soapbox.”
“...”
“Besides, do you really want Neji to win again?”
Sasuke makes an indiscernible noise. “Hn. Do as you want.” He gets up, grabbing his books before walking out the classroom door. “But if I’m running...I’m going by my own name.”
★★★
The day of the election, after three grueling weeks of pasting posters onto the walls of the eleventh and twelfth grade hallways, sending out little chocolates to all the girls with his forged signature, and ‘casually’ persuading some of the guys she knew to give Sasuke their vote (or in other words, threatening to beat them senseless with her pocketbook in front of all their little friends if they didn’t agree)...Sakura is more than a little relieved that she’s finally through with the campaign.
But then again, Sasuke had been rather headstrong about the fact that she was giving him a speech she wrote, and didn’t particularly like the cue cards for the question and answer portion. She wonders vaguely if it’s because he had to come to terms with the fact he has the emotional intelligence of an inanimate object.
Sakura is standing back in the wings of the stage; two podiums are set up on either side. The auditorium is packed with all the upperclassmen, and Sakura knows that whatever anxiety and/or nausea Sasuke should be feeling right now, she’s feeling it for him. Ten fold.
The lights come on. Neji stands farthest from her on the left end of the stage. Sakura scowls inwardly, wondering how even in situations of high anxiety he looks like he belongs in a freaking L’oreal shampoo commercial. (Seriously, does this guy deep condition his hair every morning or something?)
Sasuke, on the other hand, looks positively ill. Sakura wonders if he’s stayed up all night, or what - he has circles, his skin is paler than his usual pale, his hair is slightly mussed and looking strangely unnatural all slicked back - basically, he’s looking worse than David Bowie did in his coke-milk-and-peppers phase.
First comes the introductions, made by a sugary-sweet senior who’s officially hosting the election and asking all the questions. Sakura just hopes she isn’t one of the many girls Sasuke’s blown off or emotionally scarred with one of his disturbing stares.
Next comes the question and answer portion. Neji, of course, does stunningly well, answering with a suave elegance to every single thing thrown at him. Sasuke, sadly, doesn’t manage to be as persuasive or likable, although he gets points when as soon as he speaks into his mic, a gaggle of girls in the front have a near fit, giving ecstatic giggle-screams and little frenetic noises, some so blown away that they look like they're just about having an orgasm.
Finally, the speech portion. The final act. Dear God, have mercy on them.
Sakura stares, wide-eyed in anticipation (and fear) as the announcer says gaily, “Sasuke, you will go first. Why did you want to run for student body president? What goals do you wish to accomplish if you are elected?”
Sasuke stares. He glances waywardly into the audience, then at the ceiling, then at the announcer, who is still painfully grinning. He looks as if he can’t decide whether to walk off, or say whatever comes to mind. Well, he happens to pick the latter.
He sighs. “In truth, I had no desire to take on this. It was due to the nomination from a fellow classmate,” Sasuke stresses (while Sakura nearly bites her thumb off), “that I was convinced to run.”
He clears his throat, and Sakura can see him glance at one of the notecards. OK, so he’s slightly improvising - well more than slightly, but hey, Sasuke’s a wild card, he can redeem himself...maybe....
“Student body president is a serious job that requires kindness, tolerance and intelligence. Although...many of you know I don’t have those first two qualities, nor do I have any desire to regulate your dances or formal functions.”
Now, if Sakura had thought this was going terrifically awful before - she’s stifling a scream of pure frustration and anguish in her cashmere sweater now (to spare her poor hand, of course). She’s going to fucking murder him for this, it’s her reputation on the line too here! What the hell is he doing?!
“My classmate and advisor Haruno Sakura, has dedicated her time and effort to all of this...and seems to be as intelligent as I am, and more kind than I could hope to be. At this point it’s obvious you should vote for her in my place.” Sasuke finishes slowly. Did his tone soften just the slightest, or does Sakura imagine it? But wait a second, did he just say...vote for her?
Sakura can’t take this anymore - impulsively, she leans forward from her place backstage, about to hiss, ‘You moron, don’t blow it!”
But before she can open her mouth, from the very front row milk cartons filled with Nesquick, broccoli and cheese come flying at the podium and someone screams, “Get off the STAGE, you little emo princess!”
And this is when the chaos pretty much breaks out.
★★★
An hour later, nearly half the football team is suspended for the milk carton fiasco and the assembly is officially over. Neji wins the presidency by default, because apparently nominating your campaign advisor is an automatic disqualification; and all is right in the world. Oh, and Sakura is helping wipe nacho cheese off of Sasuke’s blazer. That too.
Sasuke is glowering at the floor, occasionally shooting her those typical withering looks; Sakura nervously dabs at the orange stain with a paper towel.
“Hehe...well Sasuke-kun, at least you’re officially withdrawn from the running!” Sakura laughs nervously, before frowning and dejectedly throwing the towel aside when she gets no response.
“Sasuke, look. I’m...I’m sorry, all right?” She takes a deep breath. “I guess I shouldn’t have even nominated you, but - you just had so much potential! I mean, you’re my friend Sasuke, I just wanted to do something fun, and seriously, half the girls in our entire grade make up your freaky little fanclub, so I thought you had it in the bag.”
Sasuke looks up at her; he’s plainly incredulous, one eyebrow raised, his mouth a thin line as he stares questioningly.
Sakura folds her arms. “All right, so most of them barely pass supplementary classes but come on, how can you ignore that you have girls slobbering over you ALL THE TIME?” Sakura says, exasperated.
“But anyway, that’s beside the point. What in the hell was that little melodramatic act up there? ‘It’s like so obvious we should just all vote for Sakura, Sakura’s the best, blah blah blah, because I’m just so’ - I don’t know. But anyway, I’m - I’m really sorry. We never should’ve done this. Yeah, I said it again. S-o-r-r--” Before Sakura can even finish, Sasuke is kissing her.
Kissing. Her.
It’s brief, but it’s definitely a kiss. One of the best ‘brief kisses’ she’s ever had. He’s pulling her against him, and...vaguely, Sakura hopes it isn’t a mechanism to shut her up. She’s blushing like hell. They pull apart.
Sasuke gives her a smirk. “Apology accepted. I guess.” She blinks at him before smiling quietly - as in, totally trying to not grin like crazy - and despite the sheer dorkiness of the whole situation, she feels good.
An hour later during Chemistry Ino turns around, giving Sakura a very puzzled look. “Hey, Sakura. Sakura.”
Sakura looks up.
“You have like...orange stuff. All over your boobs.”
Sakura looks down. Sure enough, there’s a enormous orange smear across her chest. Oh. (She nearly cracks her pencil in half.)
While Sasuke is walking home that afternoon, he’s pelted with a can of tennis balls, and also a biology book. Sadly, he never sees it coming.
★Fin.★
Summary: Sakura insists, “If you’re going to win this thing Sasuke, we just have to rename you. Besides, then the guys on the football team won't even know it's you!” Sasuke scowls. He never asked for a one-woman campaign trail.
Theme: AU -- school
Prompt: Burning/ignite
Rating: T
Genres: Comedy/Dash of Fluff
Notes: In which I pictured Sakura being Sasuke’s campaign advisor at school and taking it much, much too seriously. And also what would ever happen is somebody, heavens forbid, tried to rename Saucekay something more typical. Dedicated to Sam. Hope you enjoy everybody! Comments are appreciated like always. For SasuSaku month at LJ.
"Politics is the art of looking for trouble." --Earnest Benn
★★★
“...I think we should re-name you Satoshi.”
“...”
“SA. TO. SHI. You know, I think that has a reallly nice ring to it!”
“Re-name who?” Sasuke asks, as he continues to glance idly at the article on breakthroughs in genetics in the science journal. It's almost 3:00, and they're still sitting in Hatake's classroom, finishing the extra credit assignment for Biology. Well, Sakura is finishing the assignment. Sasuke finished about fifteen minutes earlier. He's one of those eccentric people she absolutely cannot understand, because they like science. Who actually likes science?
“I said YOU, Sasuke. We’re going to re-name you something more suitable for your campaign.”
After a pause the magazine is thrown onto the desk, showing sheer disgust (or maybe just exasperation). “Sakura, I don’t think you understand.”
She smiles, all faux-sweetly. “What exactly, Sasuke-kun.” Kun? Please.
“That I have no desire to become our school president whatsoever. Whatsoever,” Sasuke stresses.
Sakura stands up in determination, and --
Smack! goes the yardstick over his desk...and the magazine. Sasuke scowls. He gives her a very pointed look as he smooths the cover (it does have to go back to the library, you know).
“If we’re going to win this thing--”
“You mean, if you’re going to win--
“I said, if WE’RE going to win this thing - ‘the campaign for student body president’, also known as TCFSBP - you’re going to have to really try to cooperate,” Sakura explains in quite the superior tone.
When Sasuke isn’t looking completely convinced and absolutely psyched like he is in her fabulous daydream, Sakura continues almost pleadingly, “Come on, Satoshi is a good name! It sounds just like a politician’s.”
Sasuke leans on one hand, gives Sakura a bored stare. “This ‘TCFSBP’ should really be ‘CFSBP’,” he says slowly. “You don’t count ‘the’ as part of an abbreviated title. And haven’t you realized that only authors and musicians rename themselves for the sake of their career, not anyone in politics?”
Sakura rolls her eyes in disgust, puts her hands on her hips. She’s looking awfully bitchy, and she’s starting to sound...quite screechy-cat-like.
“Look, Sasuke-kun.” That fake sugar again. “I’m the only one who bothered to brave your emotionless attitude and those ugly crypt keeper looks you give to help you run for president! I mean, it’s not my fault that I, er...mistakingly put your name into the roster! Who cares if all the guys on the football team hate you, they’re meatheads, and - you’re the best candidate for school president there’s ever been.” Sakura breathes heavily.
“...Are you finished?”
“Well at least if we re-name you the guys on the football team won’t know who’s actually running. There. Now I’m done,” Sakura says, sitting down and clasping her hands while eying him a bit hawkishly.
Sasuke leans back. Distantly, he thinks he can feel a headache coming on. “I never asked for a one-woman campaign trail,” he points out levelly, voice sour.
Sakura sighs. Then, in a genuinely kind tone says, “I promise I’ll do a good job. And make you sound like you’re not emotionally stunted when you have to take the soapbox.”
“...”
“Besides, do you really want Neji to win again?”
Sasuke makes an indiscernible noise. “Hn. Do as you want.” He gets up, grabbing his books before walking out the classroom door. “But if I’m running...I’m going by my own name.”
★★★
The day of the election, after three grueling weeks of pasting posters onto the walls of the eleventh and twelfth grade hallways, sending out little chocolates to all the girls with his forged signature, and ‘casually’ persuading some of the guys she knew to give Sasuke their vote (or in other words, threatening to beat them senseless with her pocketbook in front of all their little friends if they didn’t agree)...Sakura is more than a little relieved that she’s finally through with the campaign.
But then again, Sasuke had been rather headstrong about the fact that she was giving him a speech she wrote, and didn’t particularly like the cue cards for the question and answer portion. She wonders vaguely if it’s because he had to come to terms with the fact he has the emotional intelligence of an inanimate object.
Sakura is standing back in the wings of the stage; two podiums are set up on either side. The auditorium is packed with all the upperclassmen, and Sakura knows that whatever anxiety and/or nausea Sasuke should be feeling right now, she’s feeling it for him. Ten fold.
The lights come on. Neji stands farthest from her on the left end of the stage. Sakura scowls inwardly, wondering how even in situations of high anxiety he looks like he belongs in a freaking L’oreal shampoo commercial. (Seriously, does this guy deep condition his hair every morning or something?)
Sasuke, on the other hand, looks positively ill. Sakura wonders if he’s stayed up all night, or what - he has circles, his skin is paler than his usual pale, his hair is slightly mussed and looking strangely unnatural all slicked back - basically, he’s looking worse than David Bowie did in his coke-milk-and-peppers phase.
First comes the introductions, made by a sugary-sweet senior who’s officially hosting the election and asking all the questions. Sakura just hopes she isn’t one of the many girls Sasuke’s blown off or emotionally scarred with one of his disturbing stares.
Next comes the question and answer portion. Neji, of course, does stunningly well, answering with a suave elegance to every single thing thrown at him. Sasuke, sadly, doesn’t manage to be as persuasive or likable, although he gets points when as soon as he speaks into his mic, a gaggle of girls in the front have a near fit, giving ecstatic giggle-screams and little frenetic noises, some so blown away that they look like they're just about having an orgasm.
Finally, the speech portion. The final act. Dear God, have mercy on them.
Sakura stares, wide-eyed in anticipation (and fear) as the announcer says gaily, “Sasuke, you will go first. Why did you want to run for student body president? What goals do you wish to accomplish if you are elected?”
Sasuke stares. He glances waywardly into the audience, then at the ceiling, then at the announcer, who is still painfully grinning. He looks as if he can’t decide whether to walk off, or say whatever comes to mind. Well, he happens to pick the latter.
He sighs. “In truth, I had no desire to take on this. It was due to the nomination from a fellow classmate,” Sasuke stresses (while Sakura nearly bites her thumb off), “that I was convinced to run.”
He clears his throat, and Sakura can see him glance at one of the notecards. OK, so he’s slightly improvising - well more than slightly, but hey, Sasuke’s a wild card, he can redeem himself...maybe....
“Student body president is a serious job that requires kindness, tolerance and intelligence. Although...many of you know I don’t have those first two qualities, nor do I have any desire to regulate your dances or formal functions.”
Now, if Sakura had thought this was going terrifically awful before - she’s stifling a scream of pure frustration and anguish in her cashmere sweater now (to spare her poor hand, of course). She’s going to fucking murder him for this, it’s her reputation on the line too here! What the hell is he doing?!
“My classmate and advisor Haruno Sakura, has dedicated her time and effort to all of this...and seems to be as intelligent as I am, and more kind than I could hope to be. At this point it’s obvious you should vote for her in my place.” Sasuke finishes slowly. Did his tone soften just the slightest, or does Sakura imagine it? But wait a second, did he just say...vote for her?
Sakura can’t take this anymore - impulsively, she leans forward from her place backstage, about to hiss, ‘You moron, don’t blow it!”
But before she can open her mouth, from the very front row milk cartons filled with Nesquick, broccoli and cheese come flying at the podium and someone screams, “Get off the STAGE, you little emo princess!”
And this is when the chaos pretty much breaks out.
★★★
An hour later, nearly half the football team is suspended for the milk carton fiasco and the assembly is officially over. Neji wins the presidency by default, because apparently nominating your campaign advisor is an automatic disqualification; and all is right in the world. Oh, and Sakura is helping wipe nacho cheese off of Sasuke’s blazer. That too.
Sasuke is glowering at the floor, occasionally shooting her those typical withering looks; Sakura nervously dabs at the orange stain with a paper towel.
“Hehe...well Sasuke-kun, at least you’re officially withdrawn from the running!” Sakura laughs nervously, before frowning and dejectedly throwing the towel aside when she gets no response.
“Sasuke, look. I’m...I’m sorry, all right?” She takes a deep breath. “I guess I shouldn’t have even nominated you, but - you just had so much potential! I mean, you’re my friend Sasuke, I just wanted to do something fun, and seriously, half the girls in our entire grade make up your freaky little fanclub, so I thought you had it in the bag.”
Sasuke looks up at her; he’s plainly incredulous, one eyebrow raised, his mouth a thin line as he stares questioningly.
Sakura folds her arms. “All right, so most of them barely pass supplementary classes but come on, how can you ignore that you have girls slobbering over you ALL THE TIME?” Sakura says, exasperated.
“But anyway, that’s beside the point. What in the hell was that little melodramatic act up there? ‘It’s like so obvious we should just all vote for Sakura, Sakura’s the best, blah blah blah, because I’m just so’ - I don’t know. But anyway, I’m - I’m really sorry. We never should’ve done this. Yeah, I said it again. S-o-r-r--” Before Sakura can even finish, Sasuke is kissing her.
Kissing. Her.
It’s brief, but it’s definitely a kiss. One of the best ‘brief kisses’ she’s ever had. He’s pulling her against him, and...vaguely, Sakura hopes it isn’t a mechanism to shut her up. She’s blushing like hell. They pull apart.
Sasuke gives her a smirk. “Apology accepted. I guess.” She blinks at him before smiling quietly - as in, totally trying to not grin like crazy - and despite the sheer dorkiness of the whole situation, she feels good.
An hour later during Chemistry Ino turns around, giving Sakura a very puzzled look. “Hey, Sakura. Sakura.”
Sakura looks up.
“You have like...orange stuff. All over your boobs.”
Sakura looks down. Sure enough, there’s a enormous orange smear across her chest. Oh. (She nearly cracks her pencil in half.)
While Sasuke is walking home that afternoon, he’s pelted with a can of tennis balls, and also a biology book. Sadly, he never sees it coming.
★Fin.★