The Only Exception

Mike sighed. He knew this was hard on Pierre. Thankfully, the others weren't like Payne.

Pierre finished the painful reading. He sighed, looking down at the desk. So far, so miserable.

Mike rubbed his back gently. "It's fine, babe. You did good," he said.

Pierre gave Mike a look. "I suck at reading English and you know it." He said.

"Well, yeah. But you did good for the language being your second," Mike said.

Pierre smiled softly. "Thank you. That makes me feel a bit better." He chuckled before going back to paying attention to the teacher.

Mike smiled and took hold of Pierre's hand, kissing the back of it.

Pierre blushed at the gesture. "Definitely my favorite American." He whispered.

Mike smiled, leaning back and waiting for the bell to ring.

The bell rang and Pierre walked with Mike to the next class. Pierre glanced at his schedule. "Mike, why the hell am I in a French class?" He asked with a 'WTF?' look on his face.

Mike shrugged. "Because the teacher needs help? I don't know. But I'm in French, so we got that class together," he smiled.

Pierre chuckled. "Oh well. Easy A for me I suppose." He said. As he walked, he slammed right into someone, causing his much smaller body to fall to the ground. He groaned, scrunching up his nose to make sure it wasn't broken. He looked up and saw Payne.

Payne glanced down at him. "Oh, look at that. A whore on a floor. That's a shocker. Sorry, I don't want you. Don't know what I might get," he said and stepped over him.

Mike growled, kneeling next to Pierre. "Douche bag," he muttered, staring after his brother.

Pierre groaned and slowly go tup. "Whore? What is he talking about? I am not a whore..." He said, rubbing his temples. He was seriously starting to hate that man.

"He's a jerk. Don't listen to him," Mike said, taking his hand and leading him to class.

Pierre sighed and followed Mike into the classroom. He did his usual introduction before sitting next to Mike. It was French class. ANd Pierre had a feeling he'd get into a fight with the teacher on how to properly say shit.

Mike sat next to Pierre, leaning back in his seat and paying attention.

Pierre looked at what the teacher had written on the board. "That is not the proper word, Miss." He said, giving her and innocent look.

Mike looked at Pierre and mentally groaned. This was not good.

The teacher glared. "Oh, and you think because your French, you can tell me how to teach?"

Pierre blinked. "I, well no. But I am simply stating a fact. You do not want to mis-teach your students, now do you?" He said, finding nothing wrong with what he was saying. French was his first language, he would know of the correct way to say things.

Mike mentally groaned again. Shit, he thought.

The teacher glared even harder. "Mr. Le Petit, do not try and be the class clown. You're not funny." She hissed.

Pierre glanced at Mike. "Uh... what is a class clown?" He asked quietly.

"Someone who makes everything a joke. Uh, actually, I think he knows the language better than you. So while you're a bitch to the rest of us, at least treat a guest to our country with some damn respect," Mike said.

Pierre bit his lip as Mike defended him against the teacher while the class hummed in agreement. Pierre glanced at Mike. "Thank you." He whispered. He really didn't know what he did wrong that made the teacher upset.
The teacher glared at Pierre. "This is all your fault. I'll see you after school, for detention."
Pierre frowned and looked at Mike. "What did I do?!" He asked, frustrated with this teacher who obviously hated Pierre for no reason.

"He won't be there. You're just mad because he's better at the language than you," Mike said.