Fic: The Lighting of a Fire (3/7)
Title: The Lighting of a Fire (3/7)
Word Count: 2000
Pairings: Lipton/Speirs, Winters/Nixon
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't own, mean no disrespect
Summary: Teacher!au. Speirs is a badass with a crush, Carwood starts to coach the Academic Bowl team and learns of the rumors about Speirs, Nix breaks up with Kathy, and Carwood is having dating troubles.
Notes: Apologies for the wait. I meant to post sooner, but rl has been beating me down lately.
Ron adapts quickly. He always has and that’s why he’s still alive. Teaching at Eisenhower isn’t so different from MacArthur. The children are different, but in the end, children are usually all the same. These children are unique, however, in that they’ve had three months of Norma Dike’s teaching to stunt their education. From the stories Ron’s heard, the man was every bit as stupid and lazy as he’d seemed at the poetry reading. Ron makes up for that the only way he knows how: by pushing these kids to excel.
His overall teaching style hasn’t changed much, though, new school or not. He lectures, he assigns readings and he quizzes daily. He forces discussion and hints about essays to come. He pushes them hard and they hate him for it, probably. But he’s doing his best by them, and they’ll be better for it.
The rumors have started back up, too. They follow him wherever he goes. His whole life they’ve been there. He doesn’t mind them much. In school, as a child, he’d felt sick when he’d hear the others talking about him like that. Now, though, he absorbs it. He can’t stop rumors, but he can use them to his advantage. If his students fear him, and he knows they do from the way they still fidget when he watches them, they excel because of it. No one wants to draw his wrath upon them by not doing work. Most students are good ones, he’s learned, if only they have the right incentive.
So Ron teaches and grades. He’s been assigned lunch duty every other day. He embraces it, like he does all his duties. It’s also his secret pleasure, however, because it’s a duty he shares with one Carwood Lipton. Ron makes his rounds of the cafeteria, eyeing students and making sure no one causes any trouble. And while doing all this, he also watches Carwood. He calls him Car in his head, and watches as he speaks with students, sometimes reprimanding them and sometimes just chatting. Sometimes they stand together, he and Carwood, by the wall, surveying the room. When this happens, Ron always lets his arm brush very softly, almost accidently against Car’s. He can’t bring himself to say anything, not yet, nothing beyond the occasional hello. Sweet Carwood Lipton doesn’t mind, though, just smiles and moves past it.
The awkward silences with Speirs keep happening, but somehow Carwood doesn’t mind. In fact, the more they happen, the less awkward they become. It could just be familiarity, but the silence is soothing sometimes. Carwood’s never been the most talkative man, but Speirs is almost completely silent. It’s unusual, certainly, but maybe not such a bad thing as he thought at first.
It’s during on one of the days they have lunch duty together that Carwood first hears the rumors about Speirs. They’re silly, really, the type of things children make up when they have nothing substantial to talk about. They say he once failed a kid for forgetting to put his name on a paper. Another time he brought the whole class candy then gave them a week’s worth of detention. They’re plausible, but only barely. Carwood has to stop himself from laughing every time he hears a whisper about the terrible things Speirs must have done at MacArthur. Kids are ridiculous, sometimes, and Carwood’s glad, because teaching would be a pretty boring if they weren’t.
The rumors are still circulating by the time the Academic Bowl team starts preparing in December. Speirs has been at the school a month, on lunch duty every other day, and they’ve become friends of a sort. Speirs seems like a good man, though a quiet one. He’s apparently a good teacher, too, or so Carwood gathers from conversations during after-school team meetings.
“He’s a slave-driver,” Babe Heffron says, one afternoon. He’s a new recruit this year, but he’s catching on quickly. “I haven’t had a teacher so tough since the nuns at my Catholic elementary school.”
Bull Randleman shrugs. “He’s not so bad. At least we got rid of Dike.”
“I guess,” Heffron says. “I just wish he wouldn’t give so many pop quizzes.”
“As long as he doesn’t give you candy, you’re golden,” Malarkey says. He looks affronted when Carwood laughs a little. “It’s true! My cousin goes to MacArthur. Saw the whole thing.”
Carwood just smiles and lets them talk for a few more minutes before initiating another practice round. It’s better, he figures, for them to get it out of their systems now. It’s just because Speirs is still new. The rumors will fade eventually; they always do. In the meantime, Carwood will just sit back and smile.
Nix sometimes goes out for a drink at lunch. Dick knows this and doesn’t mind, as long as it’s only one drink. He doesn’t want the man coming back to work drunk after lunch. He doesn’t especially want him coming into school in the mornings hung-over, either, but that’s less within his control. It does start to become a problem, though, one Friday, mid-December. It’s the third day in a row Nix has come in looking like he’d never even gone to sleep and smelling like a brewery. The first day, Dick had let it go. The second day, Dick was gentle, asking him if he was okay. Today, he’s going to put a stop to it.
The trick with dealing with Nix is to be supportive but laid-back. Nix’s parents were apparently neglectful and overbearing by turns, so he’s got an aversion to both ends of the spectrum. Dick’s learned over the years that if he just acts concerned in Nix’s general vicinity for long enough, he’ll get answers.
It takes until lunch time. Dick spent the entire morning doing paperwork with his door open, occasionally calling out to Nix, who just grunted or swore. At lunch, though, he apparently has some sort of breakdown. There’s shouting involved, and a stapler gets thrown. Eventually, after the theatrics are over and the office aides have been scared away, Dick learns that Nix and Kathy have broken up and Kathy has taken the puppy they got together. To be honest, Nix seems more upset about the dog than anything, but that’s not really unexpected. Nix never really seemed to like Kathy all that much. If anything, he seemed to actively dislike her, spending as much time over at Dick’s place as possible.
Dick doesn’t say anything to Nix’s news or about his tantrum. Coddling or scolding him will only make things worse. Nix will get over the breakup on his own, probably sooner rather than later. It’s good that he’s gotten it all out there, even though the main office is a little bit worse for wear afterward. Still, Dick resolves to keep an eye on Nix until he’s sure the man is really okay. Nix is his absolute best friend, and Dick doubts even Nix knows how much that means to him.
It does mean an awful lot, though, their friendship. Nix was the first friend Dick had made out of everyone in the staff. It seems odd to think that they’ve only been friends for a few years. Sometimes, especially in the trying times like now, it seems like forever. Nix is a man who needs a lot of patience at times. Luckily, Dick has always been a patient man, and he’s perfectly willing to wait. He can wait for this thing with Kathy to blow over, and next time Nix has a problem, he’ll wait then, too. And one of these days, Nix will realize he’s ready to be more than friends, and all Dick’s waiting will have paid off. But until then, well, Dick can be patient.
Carwood knows something odd is going on after his fourth failed date in a month. Certainly he’s had people he hadn’t clicked with right away, and in those cases when someone didn’t call about a second date, he accepted it and moved on. But the weird thing is how all of these men he’s gone out with recently have seemed very interested and attentive, until about halfway through the meal, when they all go twitchy and make their excuses to leave abruptly. Tom, the first date, had received a conveniently-timed phone call from his sister about a family emergency, and the second, Alex, had gone to the bathroom and never come back. It was after the third man, Jake, had almost certainly faked a food allergy that Carwood began to think he was cursed. The fourth date never shows up at all. Carwood sits at the table by himself, feeling more and more embarrassed, for nearly twenty minutes before he spots something that could maybe turn his night around: a few tables over, Ron Speirs is sitting by himself, reading a menu.
“Hey,” Carwood says, approaching the table, only a little cautiously. If Speirs is here with someone, he doesn’t want to butt in, but if they’re both alone, there seems to be no reason not to sit together. They’re almost friends, these days, after all. “Want some company?”
Speirs looks up at him and shrugs in that way he has, nonchalant and easy. “Have a seat.”
Carwood pulls out a chair and sits down. “I’m glad you’re here, actually,” he says without really knowing why. “My date didn’t show up.”
Speirs doesn’t say anything, only quirks an eyebrow and motions for him to continue.
“It’s a bit odd, to tell you the truth. I never had trouble with dates until recently, but they’ve all been a mess lately.”
He spills the whole without meaning too, while Speirs just nods along, silent as always. Once he’s begun talking about it, Carwood starts to feel relieved. It’s nice, being able to say all the things that have been bothering him about the matter, especially the nagging suspicion that it’s not that his dates have been especially rude or that he has bad luck, but rather that Carwood is somehow too unattractive or too boring to be worth dating.
Something flashes across Speirs’ face after he’s said all this, but it’s gone so quickly Carwood can’t make it out. He’s silent for a long moment, then begins to speak quietly.
“Ever since I came to the school, I’ve been hearing things about all the other teachers. Students talk in the halls or during projects and I always hear about them talking about the best teacher in the place: someone they can always ask for help and who never turns a student away, no matter what they’re having problems with.”
Carwood nods, a bit confused about where Speirs is going with this.
“You don’t know who I mean, do you?” Speirs smiles, and it’s so soft and sweet that Carwood’s breath catches in his chest. He would never expect such a serious man to smile like that. “It’s you, Lipton. Every kid I’ve ever heard talking about it agrees that you’re the go-to teacher for any kind of problem, ever since Winters stopped teaching. You’re a good teacher and a good man, and whatever is scaring off these men, it’s not you.”
The tight feeling in Carwood’s chest expands and spreads to his fingertips, which begin to tingle, just a little bit. No one has ever said anything so nice to him, probably in his whole life. And coming from a man like Speirs, who speaks so rarely, it really means a lot.
“You can call me Carwood, if you want,” he offers.
“Carwood,” Speirs repeats, smile spreading and eyes crinkling in the corner.
The waitress brings their food, then, and Carwood looks away to thank her. When he looks back, Speirs’ smile is gone, replaced by his usual blank look. It’s disappointing, but at least Carwood knows the truth. Inside Ron Speirs is a sweet man, and Carwood is determined to find him again.
Chapter Two
Chapter Four
Masterpost
Word Count: 2000
Pairings: Lipton/Speirs, Winters/Nixon
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't own, mean no disrespect
Summary: Teacher!au. Speirs is a badass with a crush, Carwood starts to coach the Academic Bowl team and learns of the rumors about Speirs, Nix breaks up with Kathy, and Carwood is having dating troubles.
Notes: Apologies for the wait. I meant to post sooner, but rl has been beating me down lately.
Ron adapts quickly. He always has and that’s why he’s still alive. Teaching at Eisenhower isn’t so different from MacArthur. The children are different, but in the end, children are usually all the same. These children are unique, however, in that they’ve had three months of Norma Dike’s teaching to stunt their education. From the stories Ron’s heard, the man was every bit as stupid and lazy as he’d seemed at the poetry reading. Ron makes up for that the only way he knows how: by pushing these kids to excel.
His overall teaching style hasn’t changed much, though, new school or not. He lectures, he assigns readings and he quizzes daily. He forces discussion and hints about essays to come. He pushes them hard and they hate him for it, probably. But he’s doing his best by them, and they’ll be better for it.
The rumors have started back up, too. They follow him wherever he goes. His whole life they’ve been there. He doesn’t mind them much. In school, as a child, he’d felt sick when he’d hear the others talking about him like that. Now, though, he absorbs it. He can’t stop rumors, but he can use them to his advantage. If his students fear him, and he knows they do from the way they still fidget when he watches them, they excel because of it. No one wants to draw his wrath upon them by not doing work. Most students are good ones, he’s learned, if only they have the right incentive.
So Ron teaches and grades. He’s been assigned lunch duty every other day. He embraces it, like he does all his duties. It’s also his secret pleasure, however, because it’s a duty he shares with one Carwood Lipton. Ron makes his rounds of the cafeteria, eyeing students and making sure no one causes any trouble. And while doing all this, he also watches Carwood. He calls him Car in his head, and watches as he speaks with students, sometimes reprimanding them and sometimes just chatting. Sometimes they stand together, he and Carwood, by the wall, surveying the room. When this happens, Ron always lets his arm brush very softly, almost accidently against Car’s. He can’t bring himself to say anything, not yet, nothing beyond the occasional hello. Sweet Carwood Lipton doesn’t mind, though, just smiles and moves past it.
The awkward silences with Speirs keep happening, but somehow Carwood doesn’t mind. In fact, the more they happen, the less awkward they become. It could just be familiarity, but the silence is soothing sometimes. Carwood’s never been the most talkative man, but Speirs is almost completely silent. It’s unusual, certainly, but maybe not such a bad thing as he thought at first.
It’s during on one of the days they have lunch duty together that Carwood first hears the rumors about Speirs. They’re silly, really, the type of things children make up when they have nothing substantial to talk about. They say he once failed a kid for forgetting to put his name on a paper. Another time he brought the whole class candy then gave them a week’s worth of detention. They’re plausible, but only barely. Carwood has to stop himself from laughing every time he hears a whisper about the terrible things Speirs must have done at MacArthur. Kids are ridiculous, sometimes, and Carwood’s glad, because teaching would be a pretty boring if they weren’t.
The rumors are still circulating by the time the Academic Bowl team starts preparing in December. Speirs has been at the school a month, on lunch duty every other day, and they’ve become friends of a sort. Speirs seems like a good man, though a quiet one. He’s apparently a good teacher, too, or so Carwood gathers from conversations during after-school team meetings.
“He’s a slave-driver,” Babe Heffron says, one afternoon. He’s a new recruit this year, but he’s catching on quickly. “I haven’t had a teacher so tough since the nuns at my Catholic elementary school.”
Bull Randleman shrugs. “He’s not so bad. At least we got rid of Dike.”
“I guess,” Heffron says. “I just wish he wouldn’t give so many pop quizzes.”
“As long as he doesn’t give you candy, you’re golden,” Malarkey says. He looks affronted when Carwood laughs a little. “It’s true! My cousin goes to MacArthur. Saw the whole thing.”
Carwood just smiles and lets them talk for a few more minutes before initiating another practice round. It’s better, he figures, for them to get it out of their systems now. It’s just because Speirs is still new. The rumors will fade eventually; they always do. In the meantime, Carwood will just sit back and smile.
Nix sometimes goes out for a drink at lunch. Dick knows this and doesn’t mind, as long as it’s only one drink. He doesn’t want the man coming back to work drunk after lunch. He doesn’t especially want him coming into school in the mornings hung-over, either, but that’s less within his control. It does start to become a problem, though, one Friday, mid-December. It’s the third day in a row Nix has come in looking like he’d never even gone to sleep and smelling like a brewery. The first day, Dick had let it go. The second day, Dick was gentle, asking him if he was okay. Today, he’s going to put a stop to it.
The trick with dealing with Nix is to be supportive but laid-back. Nix’s parents were apparently neglectful and overbearing by turns, so he’s got an aversion to both ends of the spectrum. Dick’s learned over the years that if he just acts concerned in Nix’s general vicinity for long enough, he’ll get answers.
It takes until lunch time. Dick spent the entire morning doing paperwork with his door open, occasionally calling out to Nix, who just grunted or swore. At lunch, though, he apparently has some sort of breakdown. There’s shouting involved, and a stapler gets thrown. Eventually, after the theatrics are over and the office aides have been scared away, Dick learns that Nix and Kathy have broken up and Kathy has taken the puppy they got together. To be honest, Nix seems more upset about the dog than anything, but that’s not really unexpected. Nix never really seemed to like Kathy all that much. If anything, he seemed to actively dislike her, spending as much time over at Dick’s place as possible.
Dick doesn’t say anything to Nix’s news or about his tantrum. Coddling or scolding him will only make things worse. Nix will get over the breakup on his own, probably sooner rather than later. It’s good that he’s gotten it all out there, even though the main office is a little bit worse for wear afterward. Still, Dick resolves to keep an eye on Nix until he’s sure the man is really okay. Nix is his absolute best friend, and Dick doubts even Nix knows how much that means to him.
It does mean an awful lot, though, their friendship. Nix was the first friend Dick had made out of everyone in the staff. It seems odd to think that they’ve only been friends for a few years. Sometimes, especially in the trying times like now, it seems like forever. Nix is a man who needs a lot of patience at times. Luckily, Dick has always been a patient man, and he’s perfectly willing to wait. He can wait for this thing with Kathy to blow over, and next time Nix has a problem, he’ll wait then, too. And one of these days, Nix will realize he’s ready to be more than friends, and all Dick’s waiting will have paid off. But until then, well, Dick can be patient.
Carwood knows something odd is going on after his fourth failed date in a month. Certainly he’s had people he hadn’t clicked with right away, and in those cases when someone didn’t call about a second date, he accepted it and moved on. But the weird thing is how all of these men he’s gone out with recently have seemed very interested and attentive, until about halfway through the meal, when they all go twitchy and make their excuses to leave abruptly. Tom, the first date, had received a conveniently-timed phone call from his sister about a family emergency, and the second, Alex, had gone to the bathroom and never come back. It was after the third man, Jake, had almost certainly faked a food allergy that Carwood began to think he was cursed. The fourth date never shows up at all. Carwood sits at the table by himself, feeling more and more embarrassed, for nearly twenty minutes before he spots something that could maybe turn his night around: a few tables over, Ron Speirs is sitting by himself, reading a menu.
“Hey,” Carwood says, approaching the table, only a little cautiously. If Speirs is here with someone, he doesn’t want to butt in, but if they’re both alone, there seems to be no reason not to sit together. They’re almost friends, these days, after all. “Want some company?”
Speirs looks up at him and shrugs in that way he has, nonchalant and easy. “Have a seat.”
Carwood pulls out a chair and sits down. “I’m glad you’re here, actually,” he says without really knowing why. “My date didn’t show up.”
Speirs doesn’t say anything, only quirks an eyebrow and motions for him to continue.
“It’s a bit odd, to tell you the truth. I never had trouble with dates until recently, but they’ve all been a mess lately.”
He spills the whole without meaning too, while Speirs just nods along, silent as always. Once he’s begun talking about it, Carwood starts to feel relieved. It’s nice, being able to say all the things that have been bothering him about the matter, especially the nagging suspicion that it’s not that his dates have been especially rude or that he has bad luck, but rather that Carwood is somehow too unattractive or too boring to be worth dating.
Something flashes across Speirs’ face after he’s said all this, but it’s gone so quickly Carwood can’t make it out. He’s silent for a long moment, then begins to speak quietly.
“Ever since I came to the school, I’ve been hearing things about all the other teachers. Students talk in the halls or during projects and I always hear about them talking about the best teacher in the place: someone they can always ask for help and who never turns a student away, no matter what they’re having problems with.”
Carwood nods, a bit confused about where Speirs is going with this.
“You don’t know who I mean, do you?” Speirs smiles, and it’s so soft and sweet that Carwood’s breath catches in his chest. He would never expect such a serious man to smile like that. “It’s you, Lipton. Every kid I’ve ever heard talking about it agrees that you’re the go-to teacher for any kind of problem, ever since Winters stopped teaching. You’re a good teacher and a good man, and whatever is scaring off these men, it’s not you.”
The tight feeling in Carwood’s chest expands and spreads to his fingertips, which begin to tingle, just a little bit. No one has ever said anything so nice to him, probably in his whole life. And coming from a man like Speirs, who speaks so rarely, it really means a lot.
“You can call me Carwood, if you want,” he offers.
“Carwood,” Speirs repeats, smile spreading and eyes crinkling in the corner.
The waitress brings their food, then, and Carwood looks away to thank her. When he looks back, Speirs’ smile is gone, replaced by his usual blank look. It’s disappointing, but at least Carwood knows the truth. Inside Ron Speirs is a sweet man, and Carwood is determined to find him again.
Chapter Two
Chapter Four
Masterpost