Post by ▪▫ JUST ELLE... on Jan 30, 2012 0:10:06 GMT
Okay, so this really has nothing to do with anything. But a while back I started writing Mitchie with a teacher. And I just couldn't stop.
The Meeting
Class was starting in five, which meant last minute preparations. Usually Ian wasn’t rushing around his room before class started, but today was the first day of class, and Confucius always said that first impressions meant the world (how he knew Confucius said this is a mystery, though. Ian just knows things). Shuffling a stack of handouts of the curriculum until they were neat, he set them aside on his desk, turning to his power-point. His superior had always told him he was a power-point abuser, but really, these things were fun. He found students were much more apt to listen and write if they had something visual, and preferably colorful (he always made them colorful).
He took a quick glance at the clock to see if he had time to run to the copy room and get his other handout with the first day assignment on it. He’d made it pink because girls liked pink, and he didn’t want to make the girls feel like they didn’t have an equal voice in the class. Hell, he liked pink. It was a very positive color. He found that even the boys did a better job on assignments with pink paper.
He made the mad-dash to the copy room gathering up the papers in his arms and hurrying back to his room, trying to not any papers out of his arms as he went. Getting through the door and to the first desk he could reach, he let the papers fall into a heap on the surface, looking up to notice that someone was already seated- and in the desk he was using to organize the papers. Without a word, the boy in the seat took up the papers in his hand and started to shuffle them into a neat pile.
“Thanks, man.” Ian said appreciatively to the blonde.
“You’re welcome, man.” The boy smirked up at him, holding up the papers for him, fixing his scarf around his shoulders after Ian had taken the papers from him.
“I’m Ian Hatcher, your Econ teacher.” He informed the petite boy who was currently pulling out a light purple binder with a large picture of a unicorn across the center.
“I’m Mitchell Pressley, your Econ student.” He informed Ian as he glanced back up to him, a large grin spreading across his face. Ian laughed slightly, nodding as he headed over to his desk to set the pink handouts down by the plain ones.
“Good to meet you, Mitchell, hopefully you’ll enjoy my class.” He commented to the boy lightly.
“Oh, I’m sure I will.” Mitchell replied, smile still in place as he twirled a sparkly pen between his thin fingers. The other students started filing in and Ian took a look at all of them in turn, greeting them brightly, always glancing back to Mitchell, though, who sat front and center, hands folded in front of him and an airy smile on his face. The boy never failed to make eye contact with him throughout his ‘introduction to the class’ talk. He always noticed that about certain students. Most would hold eye contact for no more than a few seconds and the let their eyes slip to the side, or even turn their head. Mitchell kept his face to Ian, though, eyes moving with his, and sometimes Ian could even swear he was watching the words come from his mouth.
When he asked for a volunteer to help give the handouts to everyone, Mitchell stood and walked over to him, flashing him another light grin before turning around to disperse them amongst the students. Ian just blinked a few times, laughing once, and nodding to Mitchell as he sat back down,
“Thanks again, man.” He told the blonde, who nodded up to him, a certain sparkle to his eye.
When class was over, everyone hurried out rather quickly, aside from Mitchell, who was slowly collecting his supplies up and depositing them into his messenger bag. Slinging the strap over his shoulder, he walked up and past Ian who stood by the door.
“See you tomorrow, Mitchell.” He said pleasantly, and Mitchell stopped, smiling brightly again,
“You can call me Mitchie, man.” He told him, patting his shoulder with that delicate looking hand and sauntering off into the halls.
The Senior Exit
Senior Exit papers. Ian knew kids would be rushing around finding advisers all day. He was hopeful that a few would come his way for a signature. He knew a thing or two about essays, after all. It was third period already, though, and only two people had stopped by. He was starting to get antsy with the anticipation of seeing whether anyone else would ask him to help out.
Ian sat at his desk, pulling out his container of sushi, the small packet of soy sauce with it. As he was looking up to open his container he spotted Mitchie entering the room, in a pair of new fabric boots (how Ian noticed this was a mystery). His eyes slipped to the small slip of paper in his hand and his face lit up.
Mitchie placed himself carefully into the seat across from Ian, situating everything on his person before looking back up to Ian and handing over the paper without a word.
“So, ….” Ian trailed off, reading the thesis, glancing back up to Mitchie. The blonde was so hard to read. “It’s…” He trailed off again, reading over it again, Mitchie only sat, head cocked to one side, studying Ian as he read the paper. Ian finally took a pen from the small cup of writing utensils he kept on his desk (one of Mitchie’s pens had ended up on there for some reason). Signing his name next to the designated Advisor signature location he handed it back to Mitchie.
“Super.” Mitchie chirped, sliding out of the chair again, and stealing Ian’s fork out of his hand, stabbing a piece of lettuce and biting it off the end of the fork before handing it back to the teacher. Ian blinked after him as he bounced off to his next class.
The Fashion Faux Pas
Ian’s mom had given him a new shirt for his birthday. He didn’t particularly like it, but she was so giddy upon giving it to him that he just had to wear it once. When he’d glanced himself in the mirror of his bathroom before going to put his watch and shoes on, he found it wasn’t too terrible. It had nice pockets… Blowing out a sigh he pulled his eyes away from the mirror and went back to slipping his shoes on.
None of his colleagues gave him any strange looks upon entering the school building, he figured that had to be an okay sign. Setting his lunch bag down in the planning room with a bit more conviction, he turned back towards his room. Mitchie’d beat him there, as usual. The look the blonde gave him was less than reassuring. A small frown appeared and his nose wrinkled in a disdainful fashion. His eyes moved along the shirt as Ian stood feeling quite self-conscious.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ian finally huffed out, folding his arms over the shirt as if it would hide some of the ugly.
“Where did you get that god-awful shirt?” Mitchie sighed out, standing abruptly and moving to take a closer look at the shirt. Picking at it between his fingers, Mitchie tilted his head back up to his teacher, shaking his head.
“Okay, I know it’s not a great shirt, but my mom gave it to me.” Ian muttered back, smoothing the shirt back from where Mitchie had been picking at it. A smirk grew on Mitchie’s face as his eyes ran across the shirt again, and he finally let out a small giggle.
“What did your mom come with you to work? I hardly think she’ll know if you take the thing off.” He informed Ian, who rolled his eyes lightly.
“It’s the principal of the thing. I’ll wear it once for her and then put it out of sight for good.” Mitchie was already shaking his head again, nose crinkling back up,
“No, no. I can’t spend all class trying to concentrate with this sad excuse for a flannel print obstructing my vision.” He waved his hand as if dismissing any further argument on the matter and Ian laughed shortly,
“Well, what do you expect me to do? It’s not like I brought an extra shirt to work with me.” He pointed out the obvious, and Mitchie face brightened,
“I did!” Ian’s mouth fell slightly open as he watched Mitchie dig through his messenger bag and retrieve a white button-up.
“Why would you… Never mind. It’s not worth it.” Ian said, stopping himself from going into the why of Mitchie bringing extra clothes to school.
“I hate wearing the same thing for more than two class periods. Ugh. But today I guess I’ll survive as long as it means you’re out of that disgusting piece of cloth.”
“Okay! I get it! It’s a bad shirt.” Ian grunted. Mitchie held the button-up out to him expectantly, hand on his hip at it cocked to the side. Ian stared at the shirt for a long moment, trying to come up with an excuse not to wear it,
“I don’t think it’ll fit.” He finally settled for.
“Please. You’re not exactly The Rock.” Mitchie scoffed lightly, swatting Ian lightly on the shoulder. With that excuse shot down, Ian was at a loss. It wasn’t as if he really wanted to wear the shirt, he just felt as if he needed to give his mother some credit for trying. But… Mitchie was right. She wasn’t here. Plus, he could probably get away with wearing it to some family event and play it off like he wore it all the time. Staring down at the shirt Mitchie still had held out to him, Ian finally sighed out and took it.
“Alright, fine. But this is stupid. It’s not that bad of a shirt.” He grumbled even though it was.
“Yes it is.” Mitchie mumbled back, nose in the air victoriously as Ian slinked back into his office and cracked the door closed so he could take his shirt off and pull the other one on. It did fit. Ian couldn’t believe he was Mitchie’s size, but supposed that wasn’t such a bad thing.
Mitchie’s eyes had found their way through the crack in the door as Ian changed, biting into his lip quietly as if Ian would hear his innermost thoughts about him. Turning to button the shirt up, Ian could spot Mitchie’s eyes in his direction through the crack in the door and his hands stopped on the buttons of the shirt as if Mitchie could only see movement. He didn’t know how to feel about the way Mitchie’s eyes had trailed up him a second ago, and he also didn’t know how to feel about the fact that their eyes were locked at the very moment, both of them very aware of what had just happened. Mitchie’s face was reddening quite visibly and he turned away to go and take his seat in the front of the room so he could keeps his eyes to himself. Ian had walked slowly to the door to his office, shutting it quietly and sitting on his desk as he tried to get the image of Mitchie eyeing him out of his mind.
When Ian finally came out and the class period began, it was all he could do not to constantly look to Mitchie. At this point, Mitchie was keeping his eyes anywhere but on Ian, studying posters he’d never knew were on the walls, and mostly eyeing the clock because, oh god, it was so awkward. He’d been eyeing his Econ teacher. How trashy was that? Of course Mitchie had always found him attractive, and maybe he was a little flirty with Ian every now and again, but this time he’d actually gotten caught. This time Ian was actually blatantly aware of Mitchie’s attraction to him, and that was probably the most mortifying thing to happen to Mitchie in quite a while.
When the bell to dismiss class came, Mitchie jumped out of his seat, much more ready to leave than he’d ever been. Usually, he was the last student out and he stayed for a chat with Ian. Today, he just wanted to get out of sight before Ian had the chance to point out how inappropriately Mitchie had been staring him down.
“Mitchell?’ Ian called as Mitchie was reaching the door, and Mitchie stopped, turning around and reluctantly looking over to Ian. “Can I speak to you for a minute?” He asked, and Mitchie’s heart sunk inside his chest. Swallowing a little, Mitchie nodded and stepped out of the door way so all the other students could exit. Ian closed the door behind the last student, turning back to face Mitchie who was leaned back on a desk staring down at his shoes. “So, uhm…thank you for letting me borrow this shirt..” Ian said gratefully, although he knew that wasn’t why he’d asked Mitchie to stay behind.
“Yeah, uhm, sure… you’re welcome.” Mitchie nodded, blinking over in Ian’s direction, eyes searching the man’s face to see if he could tell what he was going to say next.
“I, uhm…” Ian trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand awkwardly. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to get it back to you.” He finally said. Still not why he’d asked Mitchie to stay behind. But he was starting to think there was no real reason he’d asked Mitchie to stay other than the fact he just wanted him here a little longer.
“I can get it when school’s over. I think you’ll survive commuting home in an ugly shirt. As long as the fashion police aren’t patrolling the free-way.” Mitchie mumbled, and Ian grinned because at least Mitchie was back to joking. Suddenly, Ian felt an impulse, one that told him to take the two short steps that separated him and Mitchie and then he was standing right over the boy, and Mitchie was staring back up at him with wide blue eyes, blonde hair falling slightly in his face.
“Ian…” Mitchie said trailing off because he didn’t know what to say with this little space between him and his teacher. Mitchie didn’t really know why, but his hands started to slip up to the buttons on the button-up he’d loaned Ian. His fingers played absentmindedly with the first button on the shirt, eyes slipping from the button up to Ian’s face. Ian was hunched forward towards him, as if he was being drawn in by some unknown force, eyes moving from Mitchie’s hands to the boy’s lips. Mitchie hadn’t noticed, but he’d also started to lean forward into Ian, fingers gripping more tightly at his shirt. “I…” Mitchie trailed off again, thoughts interrupted by the close proximity of Ian’s face to his, able to feel the man’s breath on him, warm and welcoming. “I h-have class…Ian.” He stammered out quietly, now close enough to Ian so he could press his forehead to the other’s, eyes fluttering shut. “D-don’t you have a class coming?” Mitchie was still trying to stammer out to the man who nuzzled his nose against Mitchie’s.
“It’s my planning period.” Ian murmured eyes flitting open to look at Mitchie as the boy’s lashes brushed against his.
“Oh.” Was all Mitchie could breathe out as Ian was lifting him to sit on the desk he’d been leaning against, the teacher stepping up and in-between Mitchie’s legs, forehead still pressed to the boy’s. “Kiss me.” Mitchie whispered up to Ian, staring up at the man with begging eyes. Ian couldn’t turn those eyes down, taking a sharp breath through his nose as his lips met Mitchie’s, he positioned himself right up against the boy hands coming up to cup the blonde’s face in his hands. Mitchie’s head tilted up to Ian’s as he deepened the kiss. His own hands went to Ian’s fingers sliding over the other’s and gripping at his arms as he sat up on the desk to press his lips more forcefully to the man’s. Ian’s lips parted slightly as he felt the boy’s tongue running along his bottom lip. When his lips had parted, he felt the tongue slip between them and into his mouth, finding it’s way to Ian’s tongue and lapping it at eagerly. Ian gasped slightly, lips closing around Mitchie’s tongue, sucking slightly at the tip of it.
After a moment, Mitchie’s lips broke away from his, and Ian made a bit of a grunt in protest, breath hitching a bit as the boy’s lips went to his jaw, kissing along it and down to the other’s neck. One of Ian’s hands slid up into the boy’s hair, running through the short blonde locks as the boy’s lips continued across his neck.
Mitchie sat up a minute later, lips leaving Ian for a brief time as his eyes found the clock on the wall behind his teacher.
“I’m late for Pre-calculus.” He mused lightly, smiling down to Ian in the next moment, fingers going back to the button-up he’d been messing with before. He was unfastening the buttons wordlessly, eyes watching Ian as the man shrugged his shoulders to help Mitchie pull the shirt off of him. Ian moved his own hands to Mitchie’s cardigan, slipping it over the boy’s head, smoothing the blonde hair the stuck up back down on his student’s head.
Mitchie’s hand ran along Ian’s chest slowly, dropping down to the man’s pants and popping them open with ease. The small hand found it’s way under the waistband of Ian’s boxer shorts, and was suddenly gripping at the other. Ian’s hands stopped their travel along Mitchie’s bare front, now acutely aware of how wrong this actually was. His eyes left the hand that was slipped under his underwear and went up to Mitchie’s face.
“What?” Mitchie frowned now, worried he’d done something wrong. Removing his hand guiltily from inside the other’s boxers, he bit into his lip. “Sorry…” He mumbled, looking up from under his lashes at the teacher.
“We can’t do this.” Ian said in his realization, feeling now completely disgusted with himself. Mitchie was a seventeen year old student. What the hell was he thinking?
“Wh-why not?” Mitchie stammered out, eyes pleading with Ian’s.
It was all Ian could do not to pull the boy back into him, kiss those pouting lips that were begging him back, and he hated himself for wanting to do this. H hated himself for encouraging the young male to do this. “I’m so sorry, Mitchie- Mitchell. This isn’t… this is completely inappropriate of me. I can’t… we can’t… I’m your teacher.” He struggled to explain, realizing his hands were still resting on the boy’s chest, and he removed them instantly, stepping back from the blonde and retrieving the button-up he’d been loaned, holding it out to the blonde. “Thank you for letting me borrow this, but I… I’ll just wear the other shirt. I, uhm… you should get to your class.” He swallowed hard, handing the frowning boy back the shirt he’d given Ian to wear. Mitchie’s head hung slightly in shame, sliding down off the desk he’d been sitting atop and bending down to pick his cardigan back up. His eyes stayed on his own hands as they smoothed the cardigan back down, sniffing quietly in embarrassment as he stuffed the button-up back into his bag.
“I’ll…write you a pass to your-.” Ian began to offer, when he’d come back from retrieving his own “god-awful” shirt.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll just go to the student lounge until third period starts.” Mitchie waved off, wanting to leave here as quickly as possible to avoid Ian’s guilty stare.
“Mitchell, I feel terrible… I shouldn’t have… I don’t know why I did this.” He said over to the boy who was turned towards the door so he couldn’t see the look on Mitchie’s face.
“Forget it. It’s my fault too…I told you to kiss me.” Mitchie recounted miserably, pulling the door to the room open. “I’ll see you tomorrow Mr. Hatcher.” He mumbled quietly, not even sure if the teacher had heard him but leaving the room without another thought about it. Ian sat himself at his desk, staring at the door where Mitchie’d been standing a moment ago. All he could see running through his mind, no matter how hard he tried to push the thought away, was Mitchie’s lips grazing against his. A bell made him jump, and when he looked up to the clock, he saw third period was beginning. Calling up the office he told them him needed a cover for the class, already packing his stuff up as they replied that they’d send someone. Hurrying out the door to his room and around to the school’s entrance, he made for his car. Ian always had a plan for his third period ready, except for today. And he couldn’t be there to stand in front of them with a lost expression on his face. No, he needed to go home. Go home and burn this shirt.