Coffee Table Talk

By: firefly

Note: written as a drabble request for blacknymph, where I had to include the characters Hidan and Temari, and use the prompt: incestuous. XD CRACK is what resulted. Reviews would be love!

Coffee Table Talk

The serving girl offered a small, nervous smile as she placed a tray of tea and cake on the table.

Temari nodded in acknowledgement, taking her tea and leaning back in her seat, eyes focused blankly on the tablecloth.

She was used to fancy accommodations when traveling with her brothers. Every hotel they'd ever resided in had been at least four-star, and this one was no different. The children of the Kazekage received special treatment regardless of their contempt for petty favours. People were frightened of them. That's why they smiled and served cake without asking for a tip. Not to mention, this hotel rarely got patrons ever since dangerous missing nins started roaming the area.

They were probably grateful to have the children of Suna at their doorstep.

Leaning her head back against the chair, Temari sighed, wondering when Kankuro and Gaara would return.

Both had gone to meet up with some Suna jounin about the mission, and she'd been told they'd return sometime that afternoon.

And now, sitting in the vacant restaurant of the hotel, she waited impatiently, sipping her tea and glaring at the fancy tablecloth. The sound of a chair scraping behind her made her twitch.

Okay, so the restaurant was almost vacant.

She continued sipping her tea, ignoring the footsteps circling randomly behind her at the other tables. Casually, she set down her teacup and placed a hand on the frame of her fan, her fingers curving over it as the footsteps approached her table.

She only glanced up when they stopped right in front of her.

"Yes?" she prompted blankly.

She instantly grew wary, tightening her grip on the fan while keeping her facial expression carefully neutral. She couldn't recognize the village symbol on his hitai-ate, the slash through it branding him a missing nin. His style of dress wasn't familiar. He wore a plain black cloak—something reminiscent of a monk's cloak—and kept it open partially in the front. She lowered her eyes long enough to make out the dark beads of a rosary glinting against his chest.

Odd. He didn't look religious.

"Hey," he said suddenly, his brow furrowing slightly. "You got any cream?"

Temari stared at him, uncomprehending, then saw that he was holding a tea cup and staring at the small packets of half-and-half on her tea tray.

Wordlessly, she pushed the tray towards him.


She watched his hands intently, keeping her grip on the fan, waiting for the moment he did anything remotely suspicious so she could strike. But he merely scooped up two of the packets and tore the wrappings off with his teeth, dumping the contents into his cup.

"Thank God," he muttered, sipping his tea with a strained expression. "How the hell do people drink the bitter shit on its own?"

Temari was drinking the bitter shit on its own, but she said nothing.

He glanced around before looking down at her, pursing his lips.

"Mind if I sit?"

"Go ahead," Temari said, thinking that she'd be able to sever his head easier if he was facing her.

He grabbed the back of the chair at the opposite end of the table, spinning it so the back faced her, then sat down, resting an arm at the top of the backrest. Temari silently drank her tea, keeping her face expressionless, keeping her eyes focused now not on his hands but the enormous scythe strapped to his back.

"Suna, huh?"

She looked at him and his eyes flitted to her hitai-ate before moving up again.

"You here alone?" he asked, when she didn't reply.

"No," Temari said shortly.

"Okay, seriously, I'm not going to cut you or anything," he suddenly drawled, setting his cup on the table before resting his chin in the crook of his arm.

Temari gave him a blank look.

"Yeah, missing nin," he said, rolling his eyes. "Ooh, scary. Don't be so uptight. I'm not gonna do anything, seriously."

"You say that as if I'd let you," Temari replied, unable to stop herself from smirking.

He grinned at that.

"They trained you well, blondie. You haven't released your weapon since I came over here."

"Yes, well, precautions are necessary," she said, lowering her eyes to his scythe once more.

"Jeez," he said, rolling his eyes once more before reaching for the scythe. Temari tensed and had he taken a second longer, she would have flipped the table and severed his head with a flick of her wrist. But he merely removed it and held it out, both eyebrows raised.

"Put it over there where I can't reach it. I know it's making you nervous," he said with a smirk.

This time, she didn't bother masking her disbelief, and he snickered at her expression. When she didn't take it, he shrugged and let go of it, letting it fall to the floor with a loud clang. Temari tried not to wince at the sound.

Just as the noise faded into silence, Kankuro appeared at the doorway, and before Temari even had time to feel relieved, he was bending over near her side and muttering something into her ear.

Ran into trouble. Missing nins. Gaara took most of them out. He's being held up by border police. You'll have to stay here the night. I'm going back.

Temari kept her face carefully blank as she listened to the message, trying not to show her fury at the impromptu delay. Kankuro pulled back long enough to give her an apologetic look, then moved his gaze to the amused-looking man sitting at the same table.

Temari nodded when Kankuro gazed at her momentarily in concern, waving him away, and he departed, but not before aiming a dark, warning glare through smudged, blood-splattered paint at the guy sitting at the table.

When Kankuro was finally out of earshot, the man let out a low whistle, grinning at the annoyed look Temari gave him.

"Jeez, I felt that one," he said with an infuriating smile. "Who pissed in his corn flakes?"

"What do you want?" Temari finally asked, cocking her head to the side warily, tightening her grip on the fan again.

"I just wanna talk," he replied, feigning a hurt look. "So I'm a missing nin. So what? You're gonna hold that against me?"


"Yeah, I guess you would. You're smart for a blonde."

Ignoring the remark, Temari weighed her options. He didn't look remarkably strong, and as of yet hadn't done anything remotely threatening. He'd even discarded his scythe. She vaguely wondered whether he was insane or just stupid.

Or maybe he was so strong he didn't need his weapon. That would explain why he was traveling alone and why he'd approached her so casually, without any regard for his safety.

She bit her lip.

"Hey, I dropped my fucking scythe just so you'd relax. Stop looking like your dog died."

Temari gave him an aggravated look, then using her foot, drew his scythe towards her side before tucking it under her chair. He looked mildly satisfied when she did and she floundered, at a loss of what to do.

Unable to think of anything, she lifted her cup and took a sip of her tea.

"So," he said calmly, resting his cheek against his forearm. "Who was that guy? Your boyfriend?"

Temari grimaced.


"Oh, come on. Did you see the look he gave me? I've never seen a more possessive fucker in my life."

"Please," Temari said with a strained expression, raising her hand. "That was my brother."

He said nothing for a few seconds, staring at her contemplatively.

"Shit happens."

Temari dropped her hand, giving him an appalled look. He returned the look with raised brows.

"What?" she said, wide-eyed.

"Just saying. I've seen a lot of weird shit in my life," he said with a shrug. "Wouldn't be the first time I saw something like that."

"What are you…that's…it's…"


"That's disgusting!" Temari said, revolted, unable to keep up the calm façade.

"Are you gonna eat that?" he asked, pointing to her cake.

Temari shoved it towards him, red-faced and mortified by his suggestion. What kind of monk was he? Did monks leave their cloaks half open? Did monks use hair mousse? Did monks swear like that? Did monks eat rich, whipped-cream coated cake? Did monks treat the idea of incest with a casualness suited for coffee table talk?

"What kind of a monk are you?" Temari demanded.

He raised his eyes with the fork still between his lips, looking amused. She exasperatedly watched him lick the cream off the back of the fork before he answered.

"Do I look like a fucking monk?" he asked, sounding amused.

"You tell me, God-boy," Temari said, staring at his rosary.

"God-boy? Jeez, haven't heard that one before."

"Are you a monk?"

"Fuck no. Like I'd shave my head and eat bread and water for the rest of my life," he retorted, looking like he was savouring every mouthful of cake, closing his eyes in a blissful expression. "God, this is good."

"A priest?"

"I'm an advocator of the faith of Jashin," he said, sounding proud as he reached into his cloak and raised the rosary for her to see.

"I've never heard of a pious missing nin," Temari said with raised brows.

He looked vaguely annoyed by her comment.

"Yeah, well, the dogma of my faith conflicts with the laws around here. Can't make a single fucking sacrifice without the village's ANBU coming after me," he muttered, jabbing his fork into a strawberry.

"Sacrifice?" Temari echoed, suddenly wary again. "People have a thing against you sacrificing goats?"

He smirked knowingly at her and she felt herself break out in goose bumps.

"Don't worry," he said flippantly, dropping the green stem of the strawberry into the plate. "I've met this month's quota. You're lucky, blondie."

"Again, you say that as if I'd let you hurt me," Temari said icily.

"Take it easy. Jeez, you're touchy. Did your brother ever tell you that?"

Temari fell silent, then returned her attention to her tea, now cold at the bottom of the porcelain cup.

It was astounding, she thought, how she was casually carrying on a conversation with some dangerous, religious nutcase who sacrificed people to his God on a regular basis. It was more astounding, she realized, that she felt close to nothing when she thought about it.

She glanced at the time, and grimaced when she realized she had four hours before bedtime. Looking at the man in front of her, she sighed and made sure his scythe was planted firmly beneath her foot before she relaxed her grip on her fan.

"Go on, God-boy," she said wearily. "You're dying to tell me about your religion, so talk."

He seemed to physically light up at her comment, and immediately dived into a long, passionate speech about the glory of Jashin and how it was his duty as a messenger of God to spread word to all the hell-bound heathens.

Temari listened to him passively, nodding every so often to show she was, when she was quietly thinking to herself: this guy's out of his damn mind.

"So it's like, by making sacrifices of people, we save their souls. As for others, it's my duty to make them see," he said animatedly, eyes bright.

"Oh," Temari said nonchalantly.

"Because seriously, when people who don't accept it die and judgment time rolls around, God is going to be seriously pissed off and He's going to say 'what the fuck, people, I send you a messenger and you shit heads fucking ignore him. You're all going to Hell.' And then they'll be all 'Oh shit, we should have listened' but by then it'll be too late and I'll be laughing and saying 'Ha ha, told you so you heathen fuckers! Bye bye!' and then—" he stopped suddenly, short of breath, face flushed from excitement.

"God is going to say 'what the fuck'?" Temari asked, voice blank.

"Well, not in those words exactly, but He's going to be pretty pissed off," he said, nodding seriously.

"I see," Temari said, blinking slowly.

He suddenly seemed to be staring at her a little too intently, and she narrowed her eyes, voice sharp.


"You're the first person to ever take me seriously," he said, sounding somewhat shocked.

"Ah," Temari said, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Oh fuck it, this is more important than keeping my identity secret," he said, seemingly to himself, before looking at her again.

"My name's Hidan."

"Okay," Temari said, still unable to think of anything else to say.

He stared at her for a few more seconds, and then suddenly reached into his pocket. Temari tensed, then almost immediately relaxed when he withdrew his hand, holding the object out to her.

A rosary dangled from his fingers, the pendant swinging silently in the air between them, and Temari stared at it blankly.


"Take it," he insisted.

Unconsciously, she reached forward and wrapped her fingers around the cool, metallic pendant, accepting it from him. The beads clinked gently together when she took it, cold against the back of her hand.

"No rush," he said placidly, holding his hands up when she glanced at him in disbelief. "You don't have to start big. Start small. Squirrels and rabbits and whatever. Then you move on up to people."


"This is fucking fantastic," he said happily, looking extremely accomplished. "Trust me, this will save your soul, since you're totally going to Hell otherwise. Incest is one big fucking sin, after all."

Temari paled.

"I told you it's not—"

"Denial is not just a river in Egypt, blondie," he said in a singsong voice.

"Listen, you ass—"

"Shit, I gotta go," he said suddenly, glancing at the clock on the far wall and standing abruptly. Temari also stood up, still holding the rosary and looking appalled as he grinned cheekily at her.

"Drop me a line sometime, blondie. We can get together and convert heathens—maybe even your brother. Seems hopeless, though…dude's got it bad."

"Say that one more time," Temari said, shaking with fury. "I'll kill you."

He smiled wryly.

"You promise?"

Temari gaped, mouthing wordlessly when he waved goodbye and strode out of the room, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the empty restaurant.

What the hell was that? She asked herself, stunned. Who the hell was that? What a freakin' nutcase.

She stood there for a few moments, oblivious to the rosary in her hand.

Well, she thought, feeling somewhat subdued. He's a missing nin. I'll probably never see him again. In fact, he'll probably die in the next few months. He—

She stopped thinking when Hidan suddenly came striding back into the restaurant, looking flustered.

Temari stood there, staring at him wordlessly as he walked over to her side of the table and knelt.

"Forgot my scythe," he muttered lowly, rising and strapping it to his back before turning and departing without another word.

Oh, he's a dead man for sure, Temari thought, staring after him.

There was no way someone that careless could survive as a shinobi—especially not as a missing nin.

And she fervently hoped he wouldn't, cursing him with every fiber of her being when for the next two weeks she had to deal with Kankuro repeatedly asking her why she kept blushing.