An imagine written in between studying French XD Slightly unromantic (because I am) and failed humour. Sorry... so please ask for a re-write if you want!
You spread your materials out on the table, and pat Kris' blond head. "Let's hope you don't fall for every single false friend there is in French this time, okay?"
He scowls, and his ice-blue eyes narrow. "Shush. I'll beat every single la and le out of existence and become a French-speaking dragon warrior."
"Very, very funny." You pat his head again and he swats you away. "Stop doing that!"
"No way. This is hilarious. You're going to be a French-speaking dragon warrior, huh?"
"Yes!" he mutters impatiently. "Now are you going to test me or not?"
"Yes I will. And, Fantastic French with Fan Fan begins! Tell me, what does tortue mean?"
"TORTURE!" Kris says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Wrong," you deadpan.
"Impossible..."
"Not!"
"What does it mean, then?"
"Turtle."
"Ha, I knew that. Try me again." He does a little punch-and-defence pose.
"What's un bras?"
"Why would you ask me that?" Kris asks disdainfully. "Why would you ask me what bra is in French?"
"Mon dieu, un bras doesn't mean a bra... bras means your arm, my dear friend."
"No way."
"Good luck being a French-speaking dragon warrior."
"Question 3. What does un traiteur mean?"
He smirks. "Traitor."
"No."
"Tractor!"
"No."
"Trait! Tray! Tree!"
"No."
"Then what?" he asks exasperatedly.
"A caterer."
"A what?" he splutters.
"Caterer."
"Stop picking hard ones, Annie!"
"Fine. What does...chat mean?"
"Conversation! Social Media! Chatting. Talking."
"You're hopeless."
"I'm not right?" /cue aghast expression/
"It means cat, never-to-be-a-French-speaking-dragon-warrior. By the way, how are you planning to become a dragon warrior anyway?"
"I don't know. Maybe I'll just be a Canto-Mando-Korean-English-speaking-hot-guy."
"You mean, a multilingual potato."
"Oh please, this is me we're talking about."
"Yeah, okay."
"I've had enough. I'm hungry. I want chicken. Oh wait, French fries are French, right? So can we have them?"
"That is, if you cook."
Kris rolls his eyes, and you swear he would've flipped his long hair if he had it. "This is me we're talking about," he repeats.
"A multilingual potato," you reply mockingly, "who can't cook."
"And you, are an insufferable girl I am dating despite you being well...insufferable."
"Shut up or I'll cook you into French fries."
"Then cook!"
"Fine. On commence La Cuisine de la France 101."
"What?"
"Tu ne comprends pas?"
"Speak one of the languages I actually understand, won't you?"
"Oui, oui, oui. Mais tu as parlé que tu comprends le français..."
"Uhm... Tu...cuisinier...maintenant...s'il te plaît." Kris manages in a thick accent.
"Ah oui, bien. On commence! D'abord, on doit preparer des pommes de terre."
Kris glares at you balefully. You reach over to pat his head, but he covers his head. "Ah dommage."
"I have a feeling that was something not very nice. Spit it out, girlfriend."
"Non! Jamais!" Never!
Kris looms over you. "Tell me."
"No."
He leans closer with a smirk. "Tell me or I'll kiss you."
"Dude, I'm your girlfriend. I'm not allergic to your kisses. At least I'm not supposed to be."
"True that." And he kisses you. "There. Tell me now?"
"Kisses are not bribes. So no."
"Tell me!"
"If you don't stop whining, I'll shove a raw potato slice in your mouth."
He sits at the kitchen counter like a huge, sad puppy. "So mean."
"Do you want to eat or not?"
"OUI OUI OUI! DÉSOLÉ! Je...veux...manger."
You finish slicing the potatoes. "That's what I was waiting for; a little bit of French from you. Let's actually get cooking, you French-speaking dragon warrior."
"Do you reckon I can fry the potatoes with my breath?"
The End. Hey, what do you guys think of Kris' new hair? Or lack thereof? Haha okay, I'm out and determined to write a better imagine. See ya <3 ~Kieva
