Chapter Text
Mx. Way had a weird way about them.
They were an English teacher, and their way of doing things very quickly shook up Red Fields High School. Within their first year, they'd already found themself to be quite the controversy among some of the older teachers, even outside of the English department.
They'd been recommended by a friend, and with their squeaky clean record and charming (if a little off-putting) demeanor, they had scored the job. It all felt so far away now. That was a whole six years ago. Of course, some of the old coots had really not grown much since then. Those who both hadn't put away their judgment AND hadn't kicked the bucket by now still found their minds occupied by Mx. Way's class rules, proudly displayed outside of the door, and the fact that they spent longer on Gothic Literature and Comics than on Shakespearean Classics.
Mx. Way didn't seem too bothered by this. They stood strong when threatened by reports from the older bunch, knowing that they held no merit. They operated in such a way that, technically, left them in accordance to the rules. After all, they were an upstanding teacher. They were the D&D club advisor, the animanga club advisor, the comic club advisor, and taught not one, but two different AP courses. Who was really going to take up issue with them?
It was no shock that Mx. Way had weaseled their way into the hearts of many of the students. When field day came around, seniors practically faced off, racing head-to-head to get to their door first to request a sponsorship. Of course, Mx. Way was fair. The first team to ask with a form in hand got their signature, but not before completing and passing a grueling interview. What would the team name be? Would there be t-shirts? Was that design drafted, could they see? Are they expected to show up to the event? Is everyone on the team passing their class?
Needless to say, the first team in the door was usually not the team they ended up signing for.
This is all to say… Mx. Way had a weird way about them.
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Gerard crossed their legs over their desk as the clock struck two and hordes of juniors swarmed out of the door. They had no intention of doing much of anything today, spare some grading and finishing touches on the lesson plans for next week. They kept their door just slightly ajar when they stayed after school, knowing that someone (student or coworker, they were just never sure) would find a way to crash in. They stretched absently before swinging their legs aside, off of the desk, and sliding back into place. The grades weren't gonna put themselves in the book, and they'd been denied a TA for their AP Literature class, so they had ought to get to work. They pulled their legs up to sit criss-cross on the swivel chair, ready to start and prepared to get distracted.
They got through maybe five research papers before they caught the jingling of keys and the familiar "plap, plap" of Converse against tile. They sighed and took the stack of papers in whole into both hands, dropping them against the table a few times to get them straight and looking expectantly at their door.
In came Mr. Iero, hulking in.. some sort of box. It looked heavy, if his slow footsteps and shaking breaths and horrible posture had anything to say about it. Which, of course, they did.
"Mx. Way!" A stupid smile washed over their face. "Heyy! Shit- Lemme put this down." He dropped the box on the desk, only by a few inches, and the whole thing shook nonetheless.
"What— Mr. Iero." They sighed, near exasperated already, "What is this?"
"Gimme a second?" He huffed, yanking the scissors from the Cup-of-Random-Utensils and opening them all the way, slicing down the tape on the top and sides of the box, "I'll show ya- It's real nice!" He closed the scissors and tossed them onto the desk. Gerard picked them up and dropped them back into the cup, blinking at the man across the table.
"Don't gimme that look-" He finally finished fumbling with the cardboard and opened the box, lifting out a typewriter with a ridiculous amount of effort.
Gerard watched as Mr. Iero stared at the box, realizing there was nowhere, now, to put the typewriter. They took initiative, grabbing the now-empty (spare bubble wrap) box by the corner and tossing it onto the floor.
"Oh— Thanks!" He smiled, a little lopsided, and set the typewriter down. He released a long-held breath, moving his hands to emphasize the thing. "It's a typewriter!! Antique!" he beamed, "From the 50's, I think. That's what the lady said, at least."
Gerard looked the thing over, blinking at it. Wow!
"Oh— Jeez, Frank, where'd you get that?"
He seemed to nearly jump at the use of his first name. "Estate sale! Yeah- Uh- some older lady, kicked the bucket. Cancer, I think? Yeah, uh, her granddaughter was selling some of her old stuff. Came across this, and it didn't break the bank or anything. Figured you may be interested? If not I can probably, like- sell it on Facebook Marketplace. Or something." He looked away about halfway through his ramblings. Gerard bit down a smile that threatened the whole interaction.
"Well, thank you, that's very thoughtful- If you're sure that I can have it, I'd love to take it off your hands. I can pay you back?" They offered, leaning forward to get a better look at the machine. They felt Frank's eyes on them, observing their observance.
"Oh, no, man- Consider it a gift, yeah? You've been, like, uber helpful helping me adjust here. It's the least I can do." Gerard looked up to meet his eyes, and finally gave way to a polite smile.
"If you insist, Mr. Iero." They smiled, almost teasingly, "It's a nice model, I'll take it! Thank you, again." they nodded, moving their papers into their top right drawer and pulling the typewriter to themself. "I guess now we'll only be able to communicate through carrier pigeon!" They grinned, more earnest as they plucked at the buttons, with no paper loaded to be affected, "I'll have to learn to operate this- I'm sure YouTube can solve that real fast. It can't be any harder than setting up a modern day printer, which is really an obscene process-" They hummed, before realizing they were absolutely thinking aloud. They looked up from the object once again, meeting the eyes that watched. "But that's besides the point- This is a very nice gift, thank you. I'll be sure to show it off to the students tomorrow." They snickered.
"Ah! Okay." Frank took a step back, "I hope your learning goes well! Even the teacher is a student to life's experience, I guess." He wrung his hands a bit. Gerard turned their focus to his hands.
"Y'know, I've always wondered what your knuckles say. Your hands are always moving, I've never been able to read them, myself." They hummed, squinting at the still-moving appendages.
"Halloween! It's my birthday, I've also got a big ass jack-o-lantern on my back." He grinned, pulling off any rings to ball his fists up and show his knuckles to Gerard.
"Oh, that's awesome. I'll make sure to remember when October rolls around." They nodded, "Well, your gift and time are very generous, and I don't mean to be rude, but I have some grading to do and I'm eager to get home-" They started, and Frank straightened.
"Of course! I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome- I hope it goes well, the grading and the typewriter and the getting home and all. Let me know, the typewriter learning and all!" Frank grinned back.
Gerard gave a curt nod and Frank scampered out like a scared Pomeranian. They chuckled to themself and moved the typewriter to the floor gingerly, in a place they wouldn't step on it or be too distracted by it. They crossed their legs over the desk, resting their legs on the wood and reaching into the right drawer to grab that stack of papers and a clipboard. They grabbed their abandoned red pen and went to get back to reading, when they were interrupted once again.
"Hey!"
They looked up, and there Frank was again, red in the nose. They didn't respond, just looked at him expectantly.
"I totally forgot to ask, did you want me to kick your doorstop?"
"Oh. No, thank you. I have a feeling Mr. Toro will be in to deliver some recommendation letters for proofreading. Wouldn't want to inconvenience him." They smiled.
Frank nodded, getting impossibly redder. "Of course! Okay, for real this time, I'll see you around, man-" And with that he was gone, apparently for good this time. Gerard couldn't decide if they were charmed or not, so instead of paying it any more mind, they turned their focus back to paper grading. They noted to themself that the next time they did author research papers, there should be a sign-up sheet, because they had already read four papers on Oscar Wilde in this one sitting.
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Mr. Toro was a fan favorite around campus, even among staff.
He wore a nerdy graphic shirt under his blazer most days, and it was hard to find him in a bad mood. He gave out high fives to whoever passed him in the hallways, and he had a small pride flag sticker outside his door, reading "Safe Space: Come on In!" He insisted that his coworkers called him Ray rather than Mr. Toro. It was hard not to love him.
Today, he walked down the hall, up to Gerard's classroom. They'd been friends for a long time, and when Gerard had fallen on hard times, Ray had referred them to the school. Now they'd been coworkers for a few years, and it really couldn't be better. They had a whole system, and part of it was Gerard proofing the letters of recommendation that Ray wrote. Ray was confident in his writing, yes, but he would never deny a second opinion. So, with his laptop under his arm, a stack of papers in his hand, and a pad of sticky notes in his pocket, he headed upstairs. He figured since it was already 3:30 and any lingering people would be in classrooms for club meetings or grading, he would be alone in the halls, but this was quickly proven to be a false assumption.
On the landing between the two flights of stairs, he heard footsteps coming down. He straightened up just enough to look friendlier, glancing up. Frank, the band teacher, descended. His walk down the stairs was bouncy, making his look almost weightless.
"Shit- Hey, Ray!" He grinned, "Headed up for proofing?" He elbowed him in jest, halting where he was.
Ray looked down at Frank, tilting his head a bit. "Well, yeah I- How'd you know that?" He raised an eyebrow, already piecing the picture together in his head.
"Was delivering something up to Mx. Way, they told me to keep the door open for ya." He said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and nodding a little.
"Ah. You caught me. Yeah, I like to have them look it over. It's good to have a second set of eyes, it's easy to overlook your own typos." Ray smiled. He regarded Frank again, noting the subtle joy and pride in his body language. It wasn't hard to tell how Frank felt about Gerard, even Gerard seemed to know, even if not to the full extent of things.
"Makes sense- I was never much of a writing kind of guy. I've been having Mrs. Lee write the rec letters I've been asked for. She's got a good head on her shoulders and knows enough about music to make it work." Frank huffed with a more resigned smile.
Ray nodded, "Don't tell me that, next time." He snickered, "I'm not a cop, though- I won't rat." He laughed, waving his hand dismissively.
Frank paused and felt his ears warm. "Shit, you're right." He grinned, "Well, I won't keep you any longer, Mr. Toro," he teased, already starting to walk off, "you kids have fun!"
And with that he was practically jogging down the bottom flight of stairs, and Ray was rolling his eyes with a fond smile. He started up the stairs, shaking his head and sighing a little. He made his way to the door he knew, now, would be open. Frank had been fawning over Gerard since he'd come to the school at the beginning of the year, only a few months ago now. With seniors starting their college applications so early, it felt so easy to think the year was flying by, but it was only late September, and the chill of autumn was only just starting to nip at Red Fields.
He shook himself out of his thoughts as he approached the door. He entered and kicked the doorstop out, offering Gerard a gentle smile as he did. "Heard you had a visitor- How was that?" He grinned.
Gerard pulled their legs from their desk and smiled at Ray, rolling his eyes just a little. "I think he left some drool behind as a second present." They snickered, lighthearted in their words, "He brought a nice gift. Antique typewriter, he says it's from the 50s but I wouldn't know. That's probably more up Joe's alley." They snickered.
"Sounds about right. He seemed jazzed on his way down the hall." Ray shrugged.
"Yeah, yeah. Pull up a chair, man, this isn't about him!" Gerard snickered, scooting closer to the desk and putting their stack of papers into the drawer once again. They'd have to bring them home, despite their best wishes.
"Okay, jeez!" Ray turned to the closest desk and dragged a chair over, depositing his papers and sticky notes to Gerard, and stationing his laptop in front of himself. He took a seat and slipped on his blue-light glasses, opening the laptop and watching Gerard start looking over the papers.
It was quiet for a while, Ray absently answering emails and Gerard scanning for typos or grammatical errors, but after a while that silence was broken.
"Y'know, it's only September and the jar is nearly full."
Ray looked up from his laptop, just a little confused. "I'm sorry?"
Gerard sighed and motioned to a relatively large jar. On it was a taped down sticky note that read "MX. WAY'S SWEAR JAR" in hastily written capitals. "Tried to kill the habit, now I'm broke as fuck and in debt to a bunch of teenagers."
"Does it count if I'm the only one in the classroom?" Ray asked, raising his eyebrows as he looked Gerard up and down. They looked at him back, as if they hadn't considered this before. Their eyes narrowed, and they swallowed hard.
Their voice came out unsure, and almost suspicious. "Nnnnno.." They decided, staring down the jar a little. "No. No it does not."
"Well, I'm not a cop." Ray snickered, and reflected on just how often he had to say that to his coworkers. This school really was held together by some staples and a dream. He sighed, closing his laptop about halfway to look at what Gerard was up to. Upon seeing the amount of blue writing, he sighed and put his laptop back up. "Y'know, I'm not trying to let Shakespeare possess me or anything. It doesn't need to belong in an anthology collection." He pointed out.
"Oh, no, it's just someone's entire future that's affected, that's all." Gerard huffed back, "If you think I like uncapping my pen every two seconds, you're mistaken! I just want them to have the best shot they can get." They snickered.
"Don't make me sound like such a dick! I'm just saying, not every conjunction is a bad one." He sighed, and Gerard glanced up from the papers, raising an eyebrow.
"Have you ever considered emailing me an editable file so I can make the changes for myself, and you don't have to worry about it? Then you can proof for yourself and send it over? I've never let you walk out of here with an unaltered letter." They pointed out.
"Well, I don't always take all of your suggestions, so that would be counterproductive." He replied, and Gerard huffed, not frustrated but a little exasperated.
"Then I could leave comments, or suggestions. Or mark up a copy so the original is in tact." They sighed, "There are a lot of other options, if you don't like looking back and forth so much."
"Honestly, Gee?" He shut his laptop, looking at them more clearly. "I like spending time with you. Even if it's quiet and you over-correct my letters. I like being in the room with you, doing our thing. Doesn't matter if it isn't the most productive way to do it, or if it creates more work for me in the long run. This feels nice, and it most definitely feels better than slashing it out completely and reducing half of our interactions to emails." He sighed.
What he was saying was true. The school staff gig really was grueling, and they didn't have as much time to dick around at home together anymore. Ray had a million responsibilities, even outside of the school day, working on more than he could count off, and the same applied to Gerard. Their time together was scarce, and generally tied to work.
Gerard softened, and let out a breath. "Alright, alright. That's on me." They agreed, "I can try to go lighter, if you need me to. You're a great writer, this is mostly just me nitpicking the little things so you can pick and choose what you like and what you don't."
Ray smiled, "No, if you're gonna do the work, do it how you want to. I know what's up, it's okay." He nodded, opening his laptop back up, "Put on some music, would you? The silence is skeeving me out."
"Aye aye, Captain Ray!" Gerard quipped, pulling their phone out and connecting it to their speaker, shuffling their playlist and letting it play into the empty air.
They spent the next forty minutes or so doing their work, Gee quietly depositing the papers back onto Ray's side of the desk about halfway through and starting back on grading. They didn't rise again until an alarm interrupted the music and Gerard decided it was time to head out. With a pat on the back and a few exchanged words, they were off, and Ray was headed back to his office.
Gerard pulled their coat on the way down the stairs and lit a cigarette as soon as they were out of the school. They waved at any of their students they saw on their way to the staff parking lot. Eventually, they arrived at their beat up Mini Cooper. They got in and sat in the front seat for a minute, getting comfortable and putting in their CD of choice for the day. They tossed their purse in the back after groping around for their keys for a minute. They got all the way to the point of turning the key and reaching for their shift before they realized they forgot the damn typewriter in their classroom.
"Fuck!"