General Relativity - Canada/Teacher!America AU
anonymous
April 28 2010, 03:52:52 UTC
General Relativity
Based on this request: This anon is dying to see Alfred as Mr. Jones, the bizarre new teacher at World Academy who's maybe a little too enthusiastic with his space and physics lessons, but somehow still manages to make people learn. Even more, she is dying to see Student A's blossoming crush and ensuing pursuit of a relationship with the oblivious teacher (preferably successful, and with some kinky student-topping-teacher sexytiems in the classroom).
General Relativity (17/?)
anonymous
April 28 2010, 05:15:34 UTC
XVII. Considerations on the Universe as a Whole
Next week, Mr. Jones bought him a stuffed whale.
“You do not know,” he told Matthew, face ashen and lip trembling in a way that made Matthew want to touch it, “how really, really, really sorry I am!”
“It’s okay,” said Matthew, holding the whale awkwardly in front of him like it might implode. It was soft and fluffy and light blue, the sort of toy you bought your three-year-old girl, and he was slightly afraid of contamination. But he was more afraid about sticking his fingers in Mr. Jones’ mouth on impulse, so he bore the burden well. “Seriously. No big deal.”
“God, it’s humiliating. I dunno know why Dr. Bonnefoy didn’t stop me,” Mr. Jones babbled, wringing the cuffs of his bomber jacket. Matthew wondered if this was what bothered him all class session; he’d never seen his professor stumble over words out of nerves rather than excitement. “Believe me, okay? I don’t drink a lot. In fact, I’m kinda bad at it. I love Kool-Aid. And when I say I love Kool-Aid, I don’t mean I put anything else in it, just sometimes two packets instead of one, because I want the sugar-”
“Um, are we going to go over my lesson plan?” Matthew interrupted, partly because he was afraid Mr. Jones would have a coronary and partly because he felt a little warmer inside with every word. Kool-Aid should not make him feel flushed; he didn’t even like Kool-Aid.
There was so much gratitude in the way Mr. Jones looked at him that Matthew half-expected (and feared, and wanted, and despaired) he would get a hug. Instead, Mr. Jones patted the stuffed whale like it was a pet dog, turned around to gather up his papers scattered across the desk, and started to talk about the Big Bang Theory. For the first time, Matthew sat down at a desk in the front row, unable to find a reason to do otherwise.
Mr. Jones pushed a desk up to meet his and took a seat, leaning forward. “You already have some background in this,” he said, holding up a battered textbook that was clearly his own so that Matthew could view the diagrams. “The Big Bang Theory’s model relies on general relativity. Good ol’ Al Einstein.” He laughed, and suddenly the words mattered.
And so, Matthew listened, his fingers rubbing the shiny plastic eye of the whale over and over. He thought, I could get used to this.
General Relativity (18/?)
anonymous
April 28 2010, 05:37:16 UTC
XVIII. The Solution of the Problem of Gravitation on the Basis of the General Principle of Relativity
Two months passed like this: a lesson in astronomy every Tuesday and sometimes on Friday, the two desks nudged edge-to-edge in an empty classroom, and a stuffed whale that traversed from Matthew’s bookshelf to the top of his television set, and then to Kiku’s bathroom sink, and then to a perch on their shared computer desk. “He is a very happy little whale,” Kiku commented more than once, a subtle smile curving his mouth.
Matthew had to agree.
And Matthew, too-he was happy.
The realization didn’t occur to him right away. In fact, it kind of slunk in through the back door and started living in the kitchen, making itself scarce whenever Matthew actively considered his own state of mind. But one day, reorganizing Dr. Bonnefoy’s collection of smutty Greek novels so that they looked at least semi-respectable, Matthew paused to smile at his reflection in the office window. It wasn’t the smile that tipped him off, or the way it wouldn’t exactly go away once he’d done it.
It was why he’d smiled.
“It’s Tuesday,” he said to the window.
Then, for clarity’s sake, he added, “You’re pathetic.” It wasn’t like his life had changed all that much. The biggest problems were still tagging along on Matthew’s heels, including but not limited to how badly he wanted to have sex with his astronomy and physics teacher. To make matters worse, Matthew had to acknowledge that truth every single time he sat across from Mr. Jones, watching him light up as he explained galaxies and formulas and the first telescope he’d ever broken on accident.
(Matthew still dreamt about the universe, only now he could give it names: pulsars, supernovas, binary systems. He dreamt about Mr. Jones’ sweat cooling under his fingers and mapping out all the knobs of his spine, and how he might arch up into Matthew’s touch, how he might sigh. And every morning, Matthew woke up to reality; it was cold on his bare toes.)
General Relativity (19/?)
anonymous
April 28 2010, 05:57:46 UTC
XIX. The Possibility of a “Finite” and Yet “Unbounded” Universe
“I really like old stuff.”
Matthew couldn’t help his smile. “I noticed,” he said, swirling his spoon around in the vanilla pudding cup that Mr. Jones insisted he should have. He was a slower eater than Mr. Jones; the matching pudding cup to his own was already empty and perched on the edge of the desk. “Your coat,” he added, nodding toward the bomber jacket draped over the chair.
Mr. Jones grinned, adjusting his glasses. “Yeah, the coat. But also, y’know, Frank Sinatra, old fighter jet models, Donkey Kong, velcro…”
“Superman.”
“Superman isn’t old. He’s timeless.”
Raising an eyebrow, Matthew stuck the spoon in his mouth. He sucked the pudding off of it and thought about how he liked older things, too. Just not in the same way. (And if Mr. Jones ever heard him say he was old, he might cry. He was that kind of guy, after all.)
“I really ought to be teaching you,” Mr. Jones murmured idly, chin propped up on his hand. He was looking at the sunshine spilling through the window, and to be honest, so was Matthew.
“Yeah.”
“Tell me something about yourself, Matthew.”
Oh. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t like things well enough to talk about them, in most cases, and there wasn’t a lot of interesting tidbits to know. Matthew was Matthew. He curled the plastic lid back over the pudding cup, biting his lip. He finally ventured, “I could eat four stacks of pancakes so long as they had syrup on them.”
Mr. Jones blinked and threw him an askance glance. “Seriously,” he said.
“Seriously.”
“That is awesome.”
“I don’t think there’s anything awesome about it…”
“No,” said Dr. Jones, as if he’d never seen Matthew before, “it’s pretty awesome. Hey. Do you wanna go get some pancakes?”
(Looking back, Matthew thought this was where it all started. Not the first day of class, not his failed paper, not when he dragged his drunken professor home-but here, under the blanket of the afternoon sun, with an invitation and two pudding cups and their red spoons left abandoned.)
laksjdlks. I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a month. Been trying to keep up with my other WIPs, and then work's crazy, and I'm going on vacation to Japan at the end of the week... But at least I'll have plenty of time to write on the plane, LOL. I hope this stuff's all right.
I've decided to post the sidestory here, but realized it's going to work a lot better if I post it as an interlude after the next few parts. :D Hope you like it when it comes!
Re: General Relativity (19/?)
anonymous
April 28 2010, 12:14:41 UTC
*sneaky sneaks in* >.> <.< >.> *sticks sign on the wall that reads: wdjk;ghsjhsjhfushfrwhhsfw OMG WHAT IS THIS AWESOME THING? WHY DID I NOT SEE IT BEFORE THANK YOU.*
Re: General Relativity (19/?)
anonymous
April 28 2010, 15:42:06 UTC
OA21=T09WJLTJED I MANGED TO MISS PARTS 11 AND 12 AND WAS CONVINCED THIS FILL WAS DEAD. *so happy she was wrong*
The whale. Ffft, the whale. I think that's my new favorite thing ever, next to passed-out-drunk!Alfred. *dances*
Matt hiding when he was a kid is adorable. *wants to hug him* And where the HELL does he put all those pancakes!? I'm built like he is, and I can barely eat three individual pancakes, let alone FOUR STACKS. O-O;;
God, this fill makes my brain melt in, like, ten ways. Simultaniously.
Re: General Relativity (19/?)
anonymous
April 28 2010, 16:03:22 UTC
This story. Is excellent.
The flow from one scene to the next, the gradual build-up of tension between them, the way Alfred seems oblivious to the fact that there is any tension between them.
I have all the parts favourited and I've been checking back (almost) daily. I'm so glad you're writing this! Also: have fun in Japan!
WUT EPIC FAIL
anonymous
April 28 2010, 22:18:19 UTC
... *facepalm*
No, that was a total slip up. And I blame Dr. Bonnefoy, 'cause ever since he came in, I've been writing "Dr. Jones" instead on accident. And when I say it, I say it in that porn-esque voice, all deep and, "Mm-hmmm, Dr. Jones. The doctor of love."
... But Alfred hopes to one day be a Dr. Jones. LIKE INDY. ♥
Based on this request: This anon is dying to see Alfred as Mr. Jones, the bizarre new teacher at World Academy who's maybe a little too enthusiastic with his space and physics lessons, but somehow still manages to make people learn. Even more, she is dying to see Student A's blossoming crush and ensuing pursuit of a relationship with the oblivious teacher (preferably successful, and with some kinky student-topping-teacher sexytiems in the classroom).
Parts I-X: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/12046.html?thread=27943950#t27943950
Parts XI-XVI: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/11813.html?thread=36015653#t36015653
This is not a placeholder. No, this is me taking, like, two hours to post the new parts because I'm busy packing for Japan in between editing.
For anyone who is curious, yes, we are about a third of the way through the story. Is long one. I fail. But love you. ♥
Reply
Next week, Mr. Jones bought him a stuffed whale.
“You do not know,” he told Matthew, face ashen and lip trembling in a way that made Matthew want to touch it, “how really, really, really sorry I am!”
“It’s okay,” said Matthew, holding the whale awkwardly in front of him like it might implode. It was soft and fluffy and light blue, the sort of toy you bought your three-year-old girl, and he was slightly afraid of contamination. But he was more afraid about sticking his fingers in Mr. Jones’ mouth on impulse, so he bore the burden well. “Seriously. No big deal.”
“God, it’s humiliating. I dunno know why Dr. Bonnefoy didn’t stop me,” Mr. Jones babbled, wringing the cuffs of his bomber jacket. Matthew wondered if this was what bothered him all class session; he’d never seen his professor stumble over words out of nerves rather than excitement. “Believe me, okay? I don’t drink a lot. In fact, I’m kinda bad at it. I love Kool-Aid. And when I say I love Kool-Aid, I don’t mean I put anything else in it, just sometimes two packets instead of one, because I want the sugar-”
“Um, are we going to go over my lesson plan?” Matthew interrupted, partly because he was afraid Mr. Jones would have a coronary and partly because he felt a little warmer inside with every word. Kool-Aid should not make him feel flushed; he didn’t even like Kool-Aid.
There was so much gratitude in the way Mr. Jones looked at him that Matthew half-expected (and feared, and wanted, and despaired) he would get a hug. Instead, Mr. Jones patted the stuffed whale like it was a pet dog, turned around to gather up his papers scattered across the desk, and started to talk about the Big Bang Theory. For the first time, Matthew sat down at a desk in the front row, unable to find a reason to do otherwise.
Mr. Jones pushed a desk up to meet his and took a seat, leaning forward. “You already have some background in this,” he said, holding up a battered textbook that was clearly his own so that Matthew could view the diagrams. “The Big Bang Theory’s model relies on general relativity. Good ol’ Al Einstein.” He laughed, and suddenly the words mattered.
And so, Matthew listened, his fingers rubbing the shiny plastic eye of the whale over and over. He thought, I could get used to this.
Reply
Two months passed like this: a lesson in astronomy every Tuesday and sometimes on Friday, the two desks nudged edge-to-edge in an empty classroom, and a stuffed whale that traversed from Matthew’s bookshelf to the top of his television set, and then to Kiku’s bathroom sink, and then to a perch on their shared computer desk. “He is a very happy little whale,” Kiku commented more than once, a subtle smile curving his mouth.
Matthew had to agree.
And Matthew, too-he was happy.
The realization didn’t occur to him right away. In fact, it kind of slunk in through the back door and started living in the kitchen, making itself scarce whenever Matthew actively considered his own state of mind. But one day, reorganizing Dr. Bonnefoy’s collection of smutty Greek novels so that they looked at least semi-respectable, Matthew paused to smile at his reflection in the office window. It wasn’t the smile that tipped him off, or the way it wouldn’t exactly go away once he’d done it.
It was why he’d smiled.
“It’s Tuesday,” he said to the window.
Then, for clarity’s sake, he added, “You’re pathetic.” It wasn’t like his life had changed all that much. The biggest problems were still tagging along on Matthew’s heels, including but not limited to how badly he wanted to have sex with his astronomy and physics teacher. To make matters worse, Matthew had to acknowledge that truth every single time he sat across from Mr. Jones, watching him light up as he explained galaxies and formulas and the first telescope he’d ever broken on accident.
(Matthew still dreamt about the universe, only now he could give it names: pulsars, supernovas, binary systems. He dreamt about Mr. Jones’ sweat cooling under his fingers and mapping out all the knobs of his spine, and how he might arch up into Matthew’s touch, how he might sigh. And every morning, Matthew woke up to reality; it was cold on his bare toes.)
Still. Somehow.
He was happy.
Reply
“I really like old stuff.”
Matthew couldn’t help his smile. “I noticed,” he said, swirling his spoon around in the vanilla pudding cup that Mr. Jones insisted he should have. He was a slower eater than Mr. Jones; the matching pudding cup to his own was already empty and perched on the edge of the desk. “Your coat,” he added, nodding toward the bomber jacket draped over the chair.
Mr. Jones grinned, adjusting his glasses. “Yeah, the coat. But also, y’know, Frank Sinatra, old fighter jet models, Donkey Kong, velcro…”
“Superman.”
“Superman isn’t old. He’s timeless.”
Raising an eyebrow, Matthew stuck the spoon in his mouth. He sucked the pudding off of it and thought about how he liked older things, too. Just not in the same way. (And if Mr. Jones ever heard him say he was old, he might cry. He was that kind of guy, after all.)
“I really ought to be teaching you,” Mr. Jones murmured idly, chin propped up on his hand. He was looking at the sunshine spilling through the window, and to be honest, so was Matthew.
“Yeah.”
“Tell me something about yourself, Matthew.”
Oh. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t like things well enough to talk about them, in most cases, and there wasn’t a lot of interesting tidbits to know. Matthew was Matthew. He curled the plastic lid back over the pudding cup, biting his lip. He finally ventured, “I could eat four stacks of pancakes so long as they had syrup on them.”
Mr. Jones blinked and threw him an askance glance. “Seriously,” he said.
“Seriously.”
“That is awesome.”
“I don’t think there’s anything awesome about it…”
“No,” said Dr. Jones, as if he’d never seen Matthew before, “it’s pretty awesome. Hey. Do you wanna go get some pancakes?”
(Looking back, Matthew thought this was where it all started. Not the first day of class, not his failed paper, not when he dragged his drunken professor home-but here, under the blanket of the afternoon sun, with an invitation and two pudding cups and their red spoons left abandoned.)
laksjdlks. I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a month. Been trying to keep up with my other WIPs, and then work's crazy, and I'm going on vacation to Japan at the end of the week... But at least I'll have plenty of time to write on the plane, LOL. I hope this stuff's all right.
I've decided to post the sidestory here, but realized it's going to work a lot better if I post it as an interlude after the next few parts. :D Hope you like it when it comes!
Reply
I live in Japan and am going to Korea at the end of the week!:D small world.
Have fun on your trip! Eat lots of mochi!
Reply
Reply
And trust me when I say this is always worth the wait. Always.
Reply
very good line.
also, i wish i had a happy whale.
Reply
>.> <.< >.>
*sticks sign on the wall that reads:
wdjk;ghsjhsjhfushfrwhhsfw OMG WHAT IS THIS AWESOME THING? WHY DID I NOT SEE IT BEFORE THANK YOU.*
*sneaks out*
Reply
I don't even like math, but I think I might take physics.
Reply
Why didn't Dr. Bonnefoy stop me...oh Alfred. Have fun in Japan though author!anon.
Reply
The whale. Ffft, the whale. I think that's my new favorite thing ever, next to passed-out-drunk!Alfred. *dances*
Matt hiding when he was a kid is adorable. *wants to hug him* And where the HELL does he put all those pancakes!? I'm built like he is, and I can barely eat three individual pancakes, let alone FOUR STACKS. O-O;;
God, this fill makes my brain melt in, like, ten ways. Simultaniously.
Reply
The flow from one scene to the next, the gradual build-up of tension between them, the way Alfred seems oblivious to the fact that there is any tension between them.
I have all the parts favourited and I've been checking back (almost) daily. I'm so glad you're writing this! Also: have fun in Japan!
Reply
Thank you again, and I sure will! :D
Reply
Forget the whale, I am going to implode. Although I suppose you could call me a very happy little whale too, in the figurative sense...
“No,” said Dr. Jones
Does Alfred have his doctorate and I forgot, or was that a slip up?
Reply
No, that was a total slip up. And I blame Dr. Bonnefoy, 'cause ever since he came in, I've been writing "Dr. Jones" instead on accident. And when I say it, I say it in that porn-esque voice, all deep and, "Mm-hmmm, Dr. Jones. The doctor of love."
... But Alfred hopes to one day be a Dr. Jones. LIKE INDY. ♥
Reply
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