Learning Curve (3/3)

[ivesia19]

Previous Part

The next day, Brendon congratulates Ryan on a great lesson. If he’s honest with himself, Ryan thinks it was pretty amazing, too. The students seemed a lot more involved than when he just talked at them, and the discussion that was instigated by the artwork he had shown them was both interesting and, surprisingly, on topic.

“See,” Brendon says, smiling, “if you just get the students involved, you can slip learning in without them even noticing it!”

Ryan laughs as he gathers his pictures from the walls, where they are hung with not-so-sticky sticky tape. “Yeah, that’s my goal - roofie them with knowledge.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying for years.”

Ryan likes moments like this: he likes when it’s just Brendon and him alone. He knows a way he could like this time alone with Brendon a whole lot more, if he could just get the courage up to do something about it. But, Ryan figures, that’s what Saturday’s dinner is for. He’ll tell Brendon then that he wants something more.

It’s better to put it off until then. He’ll deal with it on Saturday.

The thought makes a pang of nervousness run through him akin to his first day of teaching, but he doesn’t think he can hide it much longer. Every day that he watches Brendon teach, every day they sit close in the library to research something for their paper together, every day he watches Brendon outsmart everyone in their graduate class - every day just makes Ryan realize more and more how wonderful Brendon really is.

“So,” Brendon says, “you have big plans tonight? I figured that we could take a night off from researching. We can start our paper on Monday, write it that week, then edit it during the weekend to turn in on the due date. But we deserve a break. I mean, you have to be getting sick of me.”

What first pops into Ryan’s head doesn’t make it out of his mouth, because he realizes that it would sound ridiculous and pathetic, so he just answers with a, “Yeah, a break sounds good. I can finish creating the rest of the stuff for the unit.”

Brendon shakes his head. A piece of hair falls in front of his eyes, and Ryan wishes that he could reach over and brush it back. “I can’t believe that this class is almost over.”

Ryan can’t either. Two more weeks and he’s home free. He won’t have to teach ever again, but if he doesn’t act soon, he may never see Brendon again, either. “Yeah, well, that’s what you get with accelerated semesters,” Ryan says. “It goes by too fast.”

“You’ll be done with your Masters then, right?”

“Yep.” Ryan nods his head. He’ll have a Masters in Contemporary Literature in less than a month and no idea what the fuck he wants to do with it. “I’ll have to get a grown up job. Hey, is the school hiring?” He says it as a joke, but, for a moment, Brendon looks a little pale.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Ryan never hears what it is, because Brendon’s classroom phone rings, and he answers it.

When he gets off the phone, Brendon changes the subject to some new editorial he read on education in the newspaper written by someone who doesn’t have a college degree much less a degree in education, and Ryan almost forgets about the way Brendon had looked at his suggestion.

---

It’s not like Ryan dresses up for the dinner on Saturday, but he maybe spends a little more time than usual making sure he looks presentable.

Brendon and Haley are supposed to meet at the house at seven, and at six fifty-five Ryan is pacing the living room.

“Hey,” Spencer says, taking in the way that Ryan is undoubtedly wearing down holes into the carpet, “calm down. I’m sure that Brendon and I will get along great. And you’ve already met Haley - she loves you, and I’m sure she’ll love Brendon, too.”

Spencer’s words do little to appease Ryan’s nerves. He wishes he were only nervous about the unlikely chance of Spencer or Haley not liking Brendon. Instead, Ryan has to worry about manning up and telling Brendon that he wants to move this friends thing to something more like friends with benefits or really just straight to significant other.

The thought gives Ryan pause, because there was a time, not too long ago, when he had thought that he would never settle down. He had just never thought he’d meet the right woman or man that would make him want to be monogamous, but when Ryan thinks about Brendon, he can’t think about anyone else.

When the doorbell rings, Ryan starts, and Spencer laughs. “I’ll get the door, jumpy. Why don’t you go pour yourself a glass of wine.” Spencer leaves the room, shaking his head, and Ryan takes his friend’s advice and heads toward the kitchen. When he comes back into the living room, Haley greets him from where she’s sitting on the couch.

“Hey, Ryan,” she says. “Oh, thank you.” She reaches out for the glass of wine, obviously assuming it’s for her. Since Ryan is such a gentlemen (and since Spencer is glaring at him to dare to keep the wine for himself), Ryan carefully hands Haley over the glass of wine, which is rather full.

This time, when the doorbell rings, Ryan goes to get it himself. Brendon is crouched down when Ryan opens the door, petting that one stray cat that follows Ryan around, meowing whenever he comes close.

Brendon looks up when the door opens and smiles. “This little guy followed me from my car,” he explains, and the cat butts its head against Brendon’s palm. “I think he likes me.”

“Everyone likes you,” Ryan says, and it feels like an admission, but Brendon just laughs.

Ryan opens the door wider, and Brendon gives the cat one last scratch under the chin before he comes inside. “We should bring some milk out for it. Or some leftovers from dinner.”

“Then he’ll never leave us alone,” Ryan complains, but he already knows that he’ll save some of the chicken to feed to the stupid, mangy cat later just to make Brendon smile.

Ryan leads Brendon into the living room, where Spencer and Haley are all but curled up together on the couch. “Hey,” Spencer says, untangling himself from Haley’s feet as he gets up to shake Brendon’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”

Brendon quirks an eyebrow up at that to Ryan, but he shakes Spencer’s hand without comment. He’s used to the handshake thing. Education majors.

Haley says hello, too, and then Spencer goes to get everyone else a glass of wine. “You all can come in the kitchen, the food is almost ready,” Spencer says, and Ryan, who didn’t realize he was hungry in all the nervous anxiety, feels his stomach growl at the mention of sustenance.

The first half hour of the dinner goes pretty well. Brendon entertains everyone by telling stories about his kids (“No, really, I had a kid write an essay on his struggles with masturbation!”), and Haley and Spencer hang on to every word, laughing at each increasingly ridiculous anecdote. So far, Spencer hasn’t mentioned that he thinks that he and Brendon are dating, and Ryan’s waiting for it to happen and make a mess out of everything.

He’ll need to get Brendon alone and talk to him first: tell him what Ryan’s been thinking and feeling.

Ryan’s just finalizing his attack plan in his mind when Haley leans closer to Brendon, lays a hand on his wrist and smiles. “So, how did you and Ryan meet?” Ryan hadn’t even anticipated having to worry about Haley. He thought for sure that Spencer was going to be the one to fuck over his plan.

Brendon looks confused at the question but not overly so. “Ryan and I are in a Masters class together,” he says. “Young Adult Literature. And Ryan’s helping out in my classroom while the class is going on.”

Haley frowns at that. “And the school is okay with you two dating?”

“What?” At this, Brendon’s eyes grow wide. He takes his hand out of Haley’s reach, and looks like Ryan feels at that very moment: panicked. “Ryan and I aren’t dating.”

“But I thought-”

“Brendon, can I talk to you in the other room?” Ryan asks, cutting a very puzzled-looking Spencer off. He has to salvage the situation while he can. Brendon nods and follows him into the living room.

“Ryan,” Brendon says. It’s all he says, and the way his voice cracks makes something break in Ryan as well.

“I can explain,” Ryan says, but Brendon holds up a hand to stop him.

“You and I aren’t dating,” Brendon says. He says it like he’s no longer sure about the facts himself, but Ryan is depressingly aware of the reality. “We can’t.”

Can’t. Ryan hates the word. Brendon isn’t even giving them a chance. Ryan doesn’t understand why, but then again, maybe Brendon’s just not the type of guy who would settle for a pretentious jerk with an uncertain future. After all, Ryan had seen Brendon dump a guy with much better hair than him that night in the bar.

But he wishes that Brendon wasn’t looking at him with those eyes that are so fucking big and sad-looking. And he wishes that he had never invited Brendon over to dinner, or been put in the same group as him all those weeks ago, or let his advisor sign him up for Y.A. Literature.

There’s nothing that Ryan can think of to say, but thankfully Brendon looks away and says, “I should probably be going. We shouldn’t make this any harder.”

Ryan watches as Brendon walks out the door, closing it tightly behind him.

Part of Ryan wants to go to the window, wants to watch Brendon drive away, just for the sake of being dramatic. Maybe Brendon’s walking to his car right now with the stray cat following him, wondering where that chicken was that Brendon had all but promised.

But Ryan knows about getting one’s hopes up. It’s never a good idea.

---

Spencer gives him until the next morning, which by Spencer’s standards, is generous. After Brendon leaves, Ryan goes straight to his room, and for twelve glorious hours, no one bothers him.

Mostly, Ryan just stares at his lesson plans for his final leg of teaching, thinking about how awkward it’s going to be come Monday morning when he’s going to have to be in a classroom with Brendon. He’ll have to be in a classroom with the man who just rejected him. The thought makes Ryan want to rip up his notes, say fuck it to his class, and run and hide in his room until he’s too old for shit like emotions.

He ends up passing out around four in the morning, drooling on his lesson plans.

It’s Spencer’s knock on his door that wakes him, and his roommate enters even before Ryan is finished wiping clean Wednesday’s plan. He’s smeared his notes for the role of Isolation, but the sympathetic look on Spencer’s face is far worse.

“So, you and Brendon aren’t actually dating, huh?” Spencer doesn’t say it like a question. He says it like he used to when he and Ryan would babysit his sisters and one of them would get upset about something that wasn’t a big deal.

But this is a big deal. This is Ryan’s life, and he’s successfully fucked it up.

“I thought we were heading in that direction,” Ryan says, as if that makes anything any better. “I was going to ask him out properly last night. And I never said he was my boyfriend, you just assumed.”

Spencer lets Ryan’s words linger for a moment, as if he knows that Ryan’s trying to pass the blame onto someone else, but Spencer’s too smart to bite. He knows Ryan far too well.

“Well, it’s over now,” Spencer says. He’s always been so put-together. Though he’s younger than Ryan, he’s always been the strong one, the one with the perspective, and it’s moments like this that Ryan thanks god that Spencer hasn’t wised up and found a better best friend. “It happened. Now, what are you going to do about it?”

Ryan looks up at Spencer hopelessly. There is nothing he can do, and he says as much. “I guess I’ll just suffer through the rest of the class and pretend that last night never happened.”

Spencer hums. “You think that’s a good idea? Don’t you think Brendon’s going to want to talk about it?”

“God,” Ryan huffs out. He’s so, so fucked. “I hope not.”

“You know what you need?” Spencer says.

Ryan has a pretty good idea on what could make him feel better, but he knows that Brendon isn’t going to come around twelve hours after the most embarrassing moment of Ryan’s life, and time machines don’t exist yet. “What? Booze?”

“No.” Spencer shakes his head. “Alcohol will just make you feel worse. My mother always said you should only drink when you’re happy, to get happier.”

Spencer’s mother would say that - Ryan’s never seen that woman upset. Not like he is now. “Then what do I need?”

“I have the whole day planned,” Spencer says, and it’s only because Spencer is such an awesome friend that Ryan trusts him enough to get in the car.

Overall, it’s a pretty good day. They go to the Humane Society and play with kittens and puppies. They eat lunch at Ryan’s favorite shitty diner that serves strong coffee, and they finish the day off by destroying a local Boy Scout troop in laser tag.

There are moments when Ryan even forgets that he’s going to have to face Brendon tomorrow, but when they get back to their apartment and Ryan sees his school books mocking him from his desk, that feeling of dread settles back in again and there’s nothing he can do about it.

---

Ryan gets to the school around the time he normally does, but instead of going straight up to Brendon’s classroom, Ryan heads toward the nearest bathroom. It’s pathetic and a true homage to the middle school experience, but Ryan hides in the bathroom almost ten minutes until the bell rings to switch classes.

It’s not that Ryan’s afraid - which, okay, he is - but it’s more that Ryan doesn’t want to have to experience more awkwardness than he needs to in order to get his Masters degree. Being with Brendon in a classroom alone - even if it’s only that two minutes as students are coming in - seems too much to bear at the moment.

So Ryan chickens out and slips into Brendon’s classroom just before his own class is about to start.

Brendon looks a mix of a million different emotions when Ryan accidently catches his eye, and he wonders if Brendon had thought that Ryan wasn’t going to show. While the option had crossed his mind, it would have been even worse than not showing up at all.

Ryan hustles past Brendon to get his stuff all situated for class, and Brendon lingers behind him for a moment or two. Obviously he wants to talk about what happened - of course he would. Stupid touchy feely education people, but Ryan isn’t going to engage and give Brendon the opportunity. When Ryan doesn’t turn, just keeps situating his materials, he hears Brendon sigh and retreat to the back of the room, allowing for him to start the period.

The class is the longest one in Ryan’s recollection. It’s also the worst.

He’s frazzled and constantly loses his train of thought. The students, who are supposed to be finding instances of Christian imagery in the work, are off topic and driving Ryan’s nerves crazy. They’re all asking a million questions, basically wanting Ryan to do their work for them, and it takes everything he has in him to not scream at them all for so obviously not doing their work over the weekend.

To make matters worse, every time Ryan rounds the classroom to talk to students, he has to pass by the desk that Brendon is sitting at, but he makes sure to not look at Brendon, just in case he’s looking back at him. But then, of course, Ryan can’t stop wondering if Brendon is looking at him, so he glances over.

Brendon’s head is down as he scribbles something down on a piece of paper. His forehead is creased with lines, and he looks about as aggravated as Ryan feels. He also looks beautiful, but Ryan’s not going to think about that.

Finally, the class ends after Ryan has the students present their findings to the class. It’s a little shaky, and their information isn’t as well supported as he would like, but at least they still find the book interesting - breast-feeding blood imitating the Eucharist will do that to teenagers.

The students file out of the class, and Ryan hurries to get his stuff together to follow them. There is no way that he is going to stay and watch Brendon teach - not after all that has happened. The thought of watching Brendon up there… No. And if Brendon were standing up at the front of the class, Ryan knows he wouldn’t be able to look anywhere else and Brendon would know just how pathetic Ryan really is about him.

No, Ryan’s not going to do that to himself, so he crams all of his stuff into his bag, and makes a bee-line to the door, but right before he’s home free, a warm hand on his upper arm stops his escape.

“Ryan.” Brendon’s voice sounds tired, but there’s also a hint of something that sounds almost like he’s pleading. Oh god, Ryan thinks, it has to be pity. “Can we talk?”

In a last ditch effort to maintain a shred of dignity, Ryan cuts in. “About the paper? I was thinking you could email me your part and I could edit it for us this week. I can finalize everything. No problem.”

It’s deflecting, but it’s a good deflection, and for a moment, Ryan almost thinks it works. After all, they do still have to finish their paper for Professor Wentz’s class.

But then Brendon sighs. “You know that’s not what I want to talk about Ryan. Look, I think you didn’t understand what I was talking about the other night, and I don’t want you getting the wrong impression, so-”

Ryan cuts him off again. He understood Brendon perfectly well on Saturday. No means no. “Brendon, you have a class coming in right now, and I should really start working on our paper, so just email me your part, and I’ll forward you the final copy before we have to present it, for your approval.”

It’s the perfect plan equating to almost zero one-on-one time. Ryan will just have to get through the next two weeks and he won’t have to think about how his heart was crushed into a million tiny little pieces.

Before Brendon can stop him again, Ryan slips through the door, instantly losing himself amongst the mass of teeming bodies, and he lets them carry him away from the classroom and the man who broke his heart.

---

The rest of the week is awkward, yes, but Brendon and Ryan fall into a sort of a rhythm. Ryan shows up mere seconds before his class is set to start, he teaches while Brendon works on their paper, looking more and more frustrated each day, and Ryan leaves for Brendon to take over again.

If anything, their paper is getting done; it’s actually pretty good. Even though he and Brendon aren’t talking, per se, their ideas are congruent with one another. And now, a couple of hours before they have to present the paper to the class, Ryan is in the library making sure that everything is perfect.

The university library has always been a comforting place for Ryan. He’s spent more time here than probably anywhere else on campus, but he likes it. The chairs are comfortable, the lights are far less harsh than the toxic fluorescents at the public school, and there’s a coke machine in the foyer that if you hit it just right will give you two sodas for the price of one.

Right now Ryan doesn’t have much time to think about how this may very well be his last visit to the library. With his thesis over and done with, Ryan just has this one last paper of this one last class to complete, and he’s done for good.

The next two weeks are the conclusion of many things in Ryan’s life, but a new chapter will start soon. A new, scarily blank chapter called the future.

Ryan is just finishing up the final sewing together of the paper (his writing and Brendon’s really do flow well together), when a man walks by him and trips on Ryan’s power cord, causing the stack of books he was carrying to tumble to the ground.

“Shit,” Ryan hears the man say, and when he looks down, he can see that the poor guy’s notes have also scattered everywhere.

Since Ryan is almost done with the paper and he still has a good two hours before the class, and since it was his power cord that the guy tripped over, Ryan crouches down to help pick up the loose papers and half-open books.

“Here, you go,” Ryan says, handing the guy the books, who looks frazzled but grateful.

“Thanks.”

It’s then that Ryan recognizes whom it is he’s handing the first edition Shelley to, and his mind flashes back to that night in the karaoke bar. “Hey. Sorry, you look familiar, do you know Brendon Urie?” There’s really no reason for Ryan to make this interaction last any longer, but he’s curious.

The guy tilts his head a little, assessing, but he nods.

He’s definitely the guy that Ryan saw with Brendon at the bar.

“Brendon and I are pretty good friends. He actually introduced me to my girlfriend,” the guy says. It’s not surprising that he rebounded that quickly from Brendon’s rejection - he’s ridiculously attractive. Not as attractive as Brendon, of course, but Ryan’s trying to make a habit out of not remembering how good looking Brendon really is.

He wonders if he should be expecting Brendon to set him up with someone any day now. If that’s the way that Brendon deals with the many people whose hearts he breaks, Ryan better start getting ready for one awkward as hell blind date.

“He’s great,” the guy says. “I’m Dallon, by the way, and you are?”

“Ryan.” He hands Dallon the rest of his papers, and when he does so, he sees that Dallon has the biggest grin on his face.

“Oh, you’re Ryan,” Dallon says. There’s something insinuating about the way he says Ryan’s name, and Ryan can feel his face burn red. Could it be possible that Brendon told his semi-ex about Ryan’s pathetic crush and subsequent rejection? Do Brendon and this Dallon sit around and laugh at Ryan’s misinterpretations of signs?

He’s about to get defensive when Dallon breaks into his thoughts, saying, “Dude, you can’t tell him I told you, but Brendon is so crazy about you, it’s sort of ridiculous.”

“Wait, what?” Ryan’s thoughts derail at Dallon’s words. His words that are not making any sense whatsoever.

Dallon smiles again, laughing a little now like what he’s saying isn’t the most groundbreaking thing Ryan’s ever heard. “Brendon talks about you all the time. ‘Ryan knows so much about literary theory. Ryan is so good with the kids. Ryan knows MLA citation so well he could annotate a paper in his sleep.’ He’s got it bad.” All Ryan can do is stare at Dallon, shocked. His lack of response must trigger something, because suddenly, Dallon looks around guiltily. “You can’t tell him I said anything. He’d kill me.”

Ryan can’t even pretend to concern himself with Dallon. Brendon, the Brendon that Ryan is admittedly head over heels about, apparently likes him back. It’s almost too good to be true. It’s amazing. Wonderful. But everything still isn’t adding up. What doesn’t make sense is why he would have pushed him away that Saturday.

“Are you sure that Brendon likes me?” Ryan asks, and then he tells Dallon about the past week.

Dallon listens carefully, nodding and humming at the appropriate places, but by the end, he isn’t looking sympathetic to the mixed signals that Brendon was obviously sending like Ryan thought. Instead, he’s looking at Ryan like he’s a moron.

“Ryan, don’t you know anything about the shit that teachers have to go through?”

If the past several weeks have been any lesson, Ryan thinks he has a pretty good idea about what teachers have to go through on a daily basis, but he doesn’t say anything, because he has no clue what Dallon is talking about.

“Brendon is a teacher at a public middle school in an area that is predominately conservative. How well do you think it would go if the seventh grade English teacher and his male student teacher started dating? Hell, it’s not even common knowledge that Brendon is gay. He has to be so careful about everything.”

Ryan frowns. “That’s not fair. That’s violating human rights. That’s-”

He’s about to go off on his rant that he frequently recited back when he was an active member of the university’s LGBTQ club, but Dallon cuts him off.

“Teachers don’t have human rights, Ryan. I thought you’ve learned that by now.” Ryan is about to object, but no, that actually sounds pretty right. “So obviously you and Brendon can’t date while you’re still working at the school.”

Suddenly, Dallon’s words make sense in Ryan’s brain. That’s why Brendon looked so freaked out when Ryan joked about working at the school when he graduated. That’s why Brendon said they couldn’t date. That’s why Brendon wanted to talk that first day after the dinner. He wasn’t turning Ryan down for good, he just wanted to hold off until Ryan was done at the school.

“Fuck,” Ryan says.

Dallon raises an eyebrow. “You okay, man?”

Okay is an understatement. Ryan grins. “You might be my new favorite person.”

Shrugging, Dallon smiles and says, “I hear that a lot.”

---

Ryan manages to finish the paper in time, even though all he wants to do is call Brendon on his cell phone and have him meet him at the library so they can make out in the stacks. Ryan can wait, though. He has made it through the last week of hell, and a couple more hours isn’t going to kill him.

He hurriedly finalizes the paper, which is amazing - if he does say so himself - and prints out three copies: one for him, one for Brendon, and one for Wentz.

Now, on his way over to the education building, Ryan can’t stop smiling. Their paper is done, and Brendon likes him. Brendon likes him. Sure, he and Brendon haven’t practiced the oral presentation of their paper that they’ll have to present in approximately ten minutes. And yes, he and Brendon haven’t really so much as looked at each other in the eye for nearly a week, but that’s all in the past now.

Brendon likes him.

Ryan gets to the classroom just as Wentz is moving toward the front of the room.

“Cutting it pretty close for the last day, Ross,” he says, grinning. Ryan waves him off, because everyone knows that Wentz couldn’t care less about punctuality. Half of the time he’s late to his own class.

He settles down in his usual spot next to Greta, but he tries to catch Brendon’s eye. He wants to somehow convey the awesomeness of the moment with him, but Brendon is resolutely looking forward.

There is no possible way that Ryan can straighten things out with Brendon before the end of class, but that doesn’t mean that Ryan looks away from Brendon for more than ten seconds while the other groups report their findings on various issues.

He listens as his classmates talk about the Summer Setback and Single-Gendered versus Mixed Gendered classrooms, but all he can think about is what he’s going to say to Brendon when this is all over.

He’s so lost in his own thoughts that Greta’s elbow to the side hurts more than it ought to.

“It’s your turn,” she hisses, and sure enough, Brendon already moving to the front of the class.

Ryan gets his copies of the paper and gives one to Wentz and the other to Brendon. When he passes the paper over to Brendon, their fingers brush, but Brendon doesn’t look up. Ryan feels a shock run through him at the contact that only intensifies when he realizes that this could be the norm from now on.

Brendon clears his throat, and Ryan tries to focus. Brendon is probably expecting to do most of the talking. After all, he is the one who is most comfortable with getting up in front of a class and speaking, but Ryan starts before Brendon can.

“We are going to talk to you about how to most effectively blend canonized literature with relational aspects. Specifically, we will be looking at the Reader-Response literary criticism theory in correlation with more traditional forms of theory.”

The presentation goes well. He and Brendon do a good job with letting the other speak, but as they talk, Brendon seems to grow more and more confused about why Ryan is smiling so much or why his voice is so excited.

Ryan can’t help it. It’s stupid, but he feels like now that he knows that Brendon likes him too, everything that has been bothering him is gone.

When they finish their presentation and sit back down in their seats, Wentz takes the last ten minutes to say how happy he was with the class and list all of the reasons that he’ll miss each and every one of them. He admits, of course, that the only reason he’s saying all of this is so that they’ll give him a good report.

“I hope this class has helped you think more about Young Adult Literature,” Wentz says. The class has helped Ryan in more ways than he had thought possible, but it’s not like Ryan’s going to share that with the class.

Though, he suspects, education majors are probably the type of group who likes to share big things like that with each other. After all, when Greta had gotten engaged last month, they had stopped class early in order to go out for celebratory margaritas.

But Ryan keeps his mouth shut and accepts the professor feedback form that is passed back to him.

“I’ll see you all in another life,” Wentz says, leaving the room.

Now that he’s taught and been a teacher himself, Ryan knows he should treat the professor feedback with more care than he is, but he wants to make sure that he gets done in time to catch Brendon. So Ryan rushes through the feedback, and waits for Brendon outside the classroom when he’s finished.

He’s impatient, leaning against the wall. His mind is running a million miles a second, and Ryan is trying to figure out how to start talking to Brendon and what he’s going to say. It’s more difficult than it seems.

Brendon comes out a couple of minutes later, and he looks genuinely surprised to see Ryan, but he just says, “Good job on the presentation. I’m pretty sure we got an A.”

“Of course we got an A,” Ryan says. He’s still not quite sure how to broach the subject with Brendon now that he’s standing in front of him. It’s not like he can just blurt out “I heard you like me!” It would certainly make things easier, though. “Can I walk you to your car?”

“Okay,” Brendon says, but he looks doubtful, as if he thinks Ryan is going to yell at him or something even worse when Brendon so obviously went for the civil classmates angle. They walk through the building in silence as Ryan tries to gather up his nerves. “So, only four more days of teaching. I bet you’re thrilled.”

Brendon is probably insinuating that Ryan will be happy to get away from the middle schoolers and him, but Ryan sees his opening, so he takes it. “Yeah, I am excited. With me out of the school, I can finally ask you out.”

At that, Brendon stops walking. It takes Ryan a moment to catch on, and when he turns around, he sees that Brendon is grinning, staring at him with amazement. “You finally figure out that I wasn’t turning you down, huh?” Brendon asks, amused.

They could easily turn this into something far more complicated, but Ryan doesn’t want that. All he wants is Brendon, so he just nods and says, “It didn’t occur to me before today that we couldn’t be involved while I was teaching at your school.”

“Don’t think it’s you or anything,” Brendon says. “I just am trying to keep everything under wraps at the school.” He looks a little flustered. “It’s not that I’m ashamed or anything. It’s just-”

Ryan takes a step closer to Brendon, and Brendon stops talking. “It’s okay,” Ryan assures. “I understand.”

“You do?”

“I am a teacher, after all.”

Brendon laughs at that. “You really are. The kids are going to miss you when you leave. They won’t want you to go.”

“But you do,” Ryan says.

He’s closing the space between them. Now, he’s only a couple of inches from Brendon, and he can feel Brendon’s breath hot against his skin when he answers, “I can’t wait until you leave.”

Ryan laughs, but it’s quickly swallowed by Brendon’s mouth, and he lets himself give into the kiss. They’re standing in the foyer of the education building, kissing, and Ryan couldn’t care less. All he cares about is how perfect Brendon feels against him.

When they part, Brendon’s eyes are larger than normal, and he grins, bright as the first time Ryan saw him.

“You can’t wait for me to leave, huh?” Ryan teases, and Brendon kisses him again, a succession of quick pecks that leave Ryan’s whole body tingling.

“It’s the only way I get to keep you.”

---

Epilogue

Even though Ryan gets out of work at four and Brendon’s school ends at three thirty, Ryan is always the first one home. He’s used to it by now. Brendon always stays behind to help with this upcoming event or that failing student. But today, when Ryan gets home, Brendon is waiting for him on their couch.

On the coffee table in front of Brendon there are two glasses already half full of wine, and Ryan thinks that there is nothing better to come home to than the world’s sexiest boyfriend and good wine.

“What’s the occasion?” Ryan asks. It’s not their anniversary. It’s no one’s birthday. It isn’t any special occasion that he can think of, but Brendon is grinning that huge smile of his and his eyes are sparkling.

“Sit down,” Brendon says, and Ryan does.

When he settles down onto the couch, Brendon moves closer to him until Ryan turns and kisses him. It’s domestic and traditional - a kiss upon returning from work - but it’s Brendon, and anything that has to do with Brendon makes Ryan happy.

“I have big news,” Brendon says. He looks more excited than he did when he found out about Spencer and Haley getting engaged before Ryan did, and for a second, Ryan thinks that Haley is pregnant, which would only give Brendon baby fever.

“Don’t be a tease,” Ryan says. He reaches for one of the glasses of wine, but Brendon smacks his hand away.

“You can drink after I tell you!” Brendon exclaims, and Ryan leans back against the couch to pout. It doesn’t work, especially when Brendon kisses it off his face. “Don’t be an ass,” Brendon says. “Let me have my fun.”

“Brendon. Just tell me.”

Brendon rolls his eyes. “Okay. Well, you remember how I told you that the school district was looking to update their middle school literature curriculum?”

“Yes.”

Brendon is looking at him expectantly, like Ryan should understand the big news from that simple sentence, but Brendon should know by now that Ryan needs everything spelled out.

He sighs but continues smiling. “Well, I talked to my principal, who talked to the superintendent, who talked to the district board, and they’re going to be buying from your publishing company!”

Ryan’s heart stops a little. “What?”

“Ryan. The whole fucking school district is going to be using your literature books!”

It’s hard to believe. If Ryan would have known three years ago that his tiny little textbook company would be supplying for the whole district, he wouldn’t have had all those freak outs early on. Because making your own literature textbook because you were sick of the shitty selections of short stories and poetry in your boyfriend’s middle school textbook isn’t exactly a sane idea.

“How?” It’s all that Ryan can think of to say, but Brendon is talking enough for both of them.

“You have a meeting with the district on Monday to finalize everything and talk prices, but I asked them if I could tell you if they picked you, and well, here I am, telling you!”

It’s more than a little adorable how excited Brendon is for him, but his mouth could be used for much better things than babbling on about the hierarchy of school districts. Ryan shuts up Brendon’s talking by kissing him; he can still feel Brendon’s grin against his own lips.

“You,” he says between ecstatic kisses, “are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” It’s cheesy and cliché, but Ryan’s thought it a thousand times. It’s about time Brendon’s been told. Especially when it’s true.

“Come on,” Brendon says, laughing, “let’s take this to the bedroom.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, and Ryan follows Brendon through their house and into their bedroom.

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