A/N: Oh, I had way too much fun writing this chapter. It's a bit of a filler, but tomorrow the plot's really going to be starting up... Although quite frankly, with the way this turned out, I'm surprised they're not shagging already...
Anyway. Enjoy!
Love from Maple
Day Two: Tuesday
Today, it was only a matter of time until something exploded.
The back row was absolutely livid with tension, all students' attention divided between the notes Mr. Dinwiddy was nervously writing on the board and Francis Bonnefoy and Arthur Kirkland, who sat in dead, absolute silence—if the notes on the French and Indian war even got a glance at all. Everyone in the class was staring back at the two of them, just waiting for one or the other to make a move. With the absolutely livid tension crackling in the air today, it was a wonder the class hadn't already descended into complete pandemonium.
Arthur's legs were crossed under the desk, green eyes glinting menacingly, razor-sharp pencil in hand and a tiny smirk on his lips.
He was ready for war.
No one even bothered to get out their notes as Mr. Dinwiddy nervously began the class, glancing back at Arthur and Francis every two seconds like they were going to leap at each other's throats at any moment—and rightfully so. A single look at Francis, in all his fucking perfection, was all it took to bring Arthur's flaming anger surging back. That flawlessly wavy blond hair fell so perfectly into his face, his blue eyes framed by long golden lashes, soft pink lips curling into a smirk. Arthur growled in the back of his throat, glaring straight ahead as Francis smirked at him.
"After yesterday, at least you've proved you're male," Francis hissed, smirk widening.
Arthur's eyes narrowed.
"Something you have yet to prove, you fucking frog," he shot back.
Francis sighed dramatically, twirling his pen between thumb and forefinger. "Arthur, cher, if you really wanted to know, you could just ask any one of the girls in this school whether or not I'm a man."
Arthur snorted. "A man? You're as much a man as Katyusha, you bloody nancy," he snapped.
Francis growled, leaning over across the aisle. "If I'm that much of a girl, I'd hate to think what you are, Eyebrows," he breathed, breath hot against Arthur's ear.
Arthur stabbed him in the cheek with his pencil. "Frog!"
"Cretin," Francis growled.
"Wanker!"
"Rosbif!"
"Fuckwit!"
"Salop," Francis muttered, leaning across the aisle again, snatching the pencil out of Arthur's hand and smacking it down on his own desk. Arthur felt a hand creeping onto his thigh, and that was all it took.
He was on the frog in a heartbeat, grabbing his neck and slamming them both down to the floor.
"Stay the fuck away from me," he spat, yanking Francis's hair out of its low ponytail, just so he could see it messed up. Francis swore, shoving a knee between his legs and tackling him down, his shoulder slamming against the leg of a desk and back pressed hard against the cold tile floor. His face was flushed and hair messy, breath hot on Arthur's face.
"That would be much easier to do if you wouldn't attack me," he replied evenly, finally managing to pry Arthur's hands from his throat and pinning his wrists to the floor.
"Oh, really?" Arthur snorted, struggling. "Says the arse who was just feeling me up!" He bucked his hips, trying to knock Francis from between his legs. "Just get away, you ugly frog!"
Francis hissed. "Gladly," he shot back with venom in his tone.
The entire class was staring as Francis backed off, shaking his hair out and running a hand through it as he sat back down in his seat. Arthur sat up, shaking his head, before he picked himself up from the floor and sidled back to his seat, glaring sideways at Francis. Mr. Dinwiddy watched them warily for a few moments, but when neither seemed to make any move to kill the other, with a glance over his shoulder, he cautiously went back to writing notes on the board.
Three full minutes of icy silence later, Francis and Arthur were at it again.
Everyone else watched with mild interest as the two of them spewed insults back and forth, some of the girls giggling, many of the guys placing bets under their breath over who would snap first, and Mr. Dinwiddy glancing at the clock every other second, as the class slowly but surely began its daily descent into chaos.
Again, Francis and Arthur were shooting remarks of the other's ugliness back and forth, before those shifted back to matters of manliness and sexual orientation, and then to how Francis would willingly have sex with anyone who even dropped a fleeting remark as to wanting it and how Arthur was most likely still a virgin. By the time the bell rang, both of them were seething with rage, stomping out into the hall screaming rude remarks over their shoulders until both were out of earshot.
Mr. Dinwiddy sank into his chair, letting out a long sigh of exhaustion.
Only 89 more days until the end of the school year.