To the Dogs or Whoever

In-between the apples and the chloroform

And there he was. Again. Sitting opposite her in all of his pompous, senior year arrogance, cocky smirk in place as he watched her fruitlessly struggle against the utterly stupid task she'd been set for the fifth time this week. She could feel her teeth grinding together automatically at his unrelenting stare, refusing to look up in his direction as she pummelled the stupid- stupid piece of clay in her fingers.

Why was art so important anyway? It wasn't as if she'd need it in the future, she was going to become a surgeon for crying out loud- not some pansy-assed artist who holed himself in his attic and sent his ears to his girlfriends for kicks.

The delicate arch she'd been moulding for the last twenty minutes caved beneath her fingers after she rubbed her thumb along the underside too hard and she growled, mashing the entire piece back into an unrecognisable pulp and resisting the urge to bash her reportedly large forehead into the condemned thing.

Yes, a surgeon, who spent all her time saving lives in a clean, white emergency room, and needed to be as good at art as a fish needed to be good at flying. So why the hell was it so important to the school that she got a good grade in this stupid subject? She was acing the rest, in her sophomore year as well, so what did one 'C' matter? Why did they care?

Why did he care?

She rolled her shoulders, still pointedly ignoring her personal stalker (in the art rooms, at least. She rarely saw him anywhere else, thank god) as she brushed the mutilated clay to the side with a selection of similarly butchered pieces and picked up a new block, staring at it for a second as she considered what to do with it. Finally deciding on a simple vase shape, (if first graders could do it, then she damn well could) she picked up the rolling pin and-

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, yeah."

-All but glared at the man opposite her. He'd shifted slightly to the side, still slouched back in his chair, startlingly blue eye watching her with something fringing on incredulous amusement.

"And what, pray," she spat out, lowering the rolling pin. "Would you know about it?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, flicking his low blond fringe to the side as he fixed a bemused eye on the rolling pin. "Suit yourself."

She shook herself mentally and told herself to ignore him, taking a small breath before continuing molding the clay. Biting her lip slightly, she completely forgot about her silent observer as she focused on her task.

Flatten the clay until it's about half a centimeter thick, cut it into centimeter wide strips, take one of them and…

"Told you, yeah."

…Stare at it stupidly as you wonder how one earth to get the strips into the nice, rounded snakes you'd seen your younger brother make without rolling air into the centre and making it explode in the kiln. Stubbornly ignoring the unwanted comment –oh, how she wanted to kick him right now-, she grabbed a strip and started pinching the edges, trying to get it to smush into itself into the shape she wanted. Completely focusing on what she was doing- oh go round you stupid thing- she completely missed the heavy sigh opposite her, and the warning scrape of chair legs on the wooden floor before a set of warm, slender hands enclosed around her own from behind, teasing the clay from her dusty fingers.

"You do it like this, yeah," a low voice rumbled beside her ear, making this funny shiver run through her otherwise frozen body as he leaned forward, long hair tickling her neck as he cleared away the strips and grabbed a fresh piece. Forcing herself to breath- when had she stopped? – she watched him from the corner of her eye as he tore a piece of clay off and started to roll it between his fingers, coaxing the clay to elongate and place it to the side.

Before long, a row of perfectly formed snakes faced her, ready to be twirled. She eyed them with mild astonishment as he grunted with satisfaction, briefly casting an eye over his work before releasing her from their impromptu embrace and gazing at her while crossing his arms, that all too familiar cocky smirk crawling over his features.

"That," he elaborated, sounding all too pleased with himself, "is how you do it."

He rolled his shoulders, not bothering to mask a yawn as he trouped back over to his seat, leaving her to watch him go, still speechless.

"Although, yeah," he rumbled as he slumped back into his seat, fixing her with a slightly disbelieving eye, "you have to be the only person I've ever met who hasn't been able to create a vase of all things. It's a wonder you do well at anything else, yeah."

Her eyebrows snapped down immediately, voice found as she opened her mouth to yell back in defence, anger flaring comfortably back to a position of normalcy once more. Growling as he just shook his head through all of her arguments, a grin crawling once more onto his smug little face, she fell back to ignoring him and steamed on with her work, not noticing how his features seemed to softened as he rested his head on his palm and resumed watching her once more.

End.

xD; The first of a selection of Deisaku oneshots, although not all of them will be put here- just the short-ish ones. Yeah, this one is more than slightly cutesy - I've just found myself in love with AU Akatsuki fanfiction, in particular high school fics. As odd as that is. xD; And Deisaku is one of my favourite pairings in all time, so I just had to write it. xD

The title and little note comes from the song, surprise-surprise: "To the Dogs or Whoever" by Josh Ritter. x3