"If we’re done here, I actually have work to do, Eames. "
But we’re married now, darling. What am I supposed to call you?
Enjoy it while you can, Eames. We won’t be married for long.
R U TRYING TO KILL HIM
And I still wonder why you care to come around.
I have a job. That’s more than you can say, hmm?
It couldn’t have been the worst day of his teenage existence if he was sitting next to this little piece of skinny meat. He said not a word, but did all the obnoxious noises with how he threw himself down in his seat, bag hitting the table and haven’t had fastened it before he left home because everything oozed out, pencils tapped on the floor and creatively a notebook shot right across to the table over.
Calvin did a mental cheering in his brain before all went dead silent as the professor spoke up. Telling him to put his stuff away.
But how he said it, didn’t sound like stuff, it sounded like he meant junk.
He hadn’t noticed but two little white and orange rolled up paper slid out onto the flap up his bag. The bag that didn’t fit the tacky outfit of the exchange student, was a little too sophisticated and artistic than the person who owned it was made out to look.
He quickly scooped up the revealed cigarettes before anyone (as far as he knew) could see and shoved them back into the cow-skin colored bag and picked up everything else.
He got the pencils, and with a wide spread, nearly ear to ear grin he slid the notebook back from the dark haired shrimp next to him. He must have read his mind because while the teacher’s back was turned the finger was shot in his direction.
Resenting that, a sweet smile was placed on those fluently bunched up lips, fingers coming to press against them under his nose and blew a kiss.
At that time, the teacher was talking, but turned around to see the distracted pair and like all sadistic professors Eames knew all to well, paired them up for the day.
He didn’t even know what they were supposed to be doing, he obviously wasn’t listening.
Arthur didn’t have a problem with Mr. Tughe until today.
In fact, he sort of liked the man’s dry sarcasm and wit.
But today? Today he hates the man.
Scowling, he grabs the worksheet from the transfer’s hands, their fingers touching for just a moment before Arthur yanks his hand back, studiously looking over the sheet.
“Don’t even talk. I’m going to finish this worksheet and you’re not even going to say a word.”
And then he actually looks at the sheet of paper. And to his growing horror, it’s not a simple worksheet— no, no, it’s a goddamn rubric for the biggest project of the class. And he and Eames have to work together.
He has the growing urge to rip the sheet into halves, then fourths, then set the fucking pieces on fire. They have no class time to work on the project.
The (hot) transfer and Arthur are going to have to hang out after school for the next two weeks and Arthur is probably going to ask him something stupid, like if he can suck the dude’s cock.