Chapter One – The Season Begins
"You know it's your own fault, right?"
Jean narrowed his eyes. Ha placed the red pen on a half-marked essay and slowly looked up to Sasha, who was stuffing her face with whatever odd combination of food she had decided she wanted for lunch that day. Sasha grinned at Jean, not at all affected by the glare that she was receiving.
"Is it, Sasha?" Jean mumbled sarcastically, before looking back to the stack of still unmarked essays on the desk. "I thought it was magic procrastination pixies."
Both teachers were in the staff lounge, sitting at a circular table beside the drinks machine. Jean, who taught history, was occasionally taking a bite of his sandwich as he marked the stack of essays he'd scattered across the table. Sasha, a food-tech teacher, had decided to make it her goal to taunt him about his lack of organisational skills and to eat inexplicably loud food while she did it. Jean didn't know for sure she was doing it on purpose, but he'd known her long enough to know it was likely.
He couldn't exactly complain, really. As Sasha had said, it was his own fault that he was hunched over his student's essays, rushing to mark them all before his lunch hour ended. He had always left marking things to the last minute and he always found himself in situations like this. He probably should have learned by now, but he hadn't.
"That would explain why this keeps happening." Sasha grinned.
Jean's eyes flickered up to Sasha in annoyance, but he didn't reply. He was determined to finish his marking all by the end of the lunch period. Partly because his class wanted them, and he was determined to be a good teacher who didn't let his students down. Partly because the last time principle Levi sat in on his lessons, something he did once a month, he noticed the large pile of unmarked work Jean hid behind his desk and hadn't been the ecstatic with the revelation.
It wasn't that Jean was a bad teacher, far from it, he was just a bit unorganised. His classes always got high grades; as far as he knew, no students hated him; and he'd almost been promoted to head of history, until a cynical old trout claimed he was too young for a senior position. The governors all agreed as, they too, were cynical old trouts.
Jean saw the logic. It must be easier to teach about the stone age if you lived through it!
"Look on the bright side. At least you don't have to clean a food lab covered in ruined, crappy pizza all on your own," Sasha continued, before musing wistfully. "All that wasted food."
"Stop calling it a food lab, it's a crappy old cooking room and you know it." Jean mumbled, squawking when the other teacher kicked his shin under the table. Some of the older staff members looked towards them in disapproval at the noise.
"And for that, you don't get the joy of my company." Sasha grinned as she stood up. She patted Jean on the shoulder as she dumped her empty food bag in the trash can. "Have fun with your essays."
"Have fun teaching a lesson that only exists to fill a space in the timetable." Jean grinned as he spoke, laughing when Sasha punched him in the back of his head. "See you later, Sash."
"Later piss-stain."
Sasha soon left the teacher's lounge, leaving Jean to his work. He sighed as his eyes scanned the essay before him, noticing the student had misspelled 'Elizabeth' on the first line. As this was an analysis on Queen Elizabeth I, it didn't fill Jean with confidence.
With a somewhat self-indulgent sigh, Jean leant forward and began to scan through the essay as quickly as he could. He occasionally paused, leaving a small note in the margin wherever there was a grammar or spelling error, sometimes leaving little remarks or posing questions that would hopefully help improve the students grade. They may not have been the best class in terms of grades, but they obviously wanted to do well, and he was intending to help in any way he could.
As he placed a now marked piece of work on the finished pile and swapped it out for a new one, he yawned loudly. He had intended to visit a nearby coffee shop for his caffeine fix during his free period, but the cynical old trout had called in sick so Jean covered his lesson. That meant he lost his free period, morning coffee and the other hour he had planned for marking.
He'd considered using the drinks machine to get some coffee, but everything that came from there always tasted like a weird mix of metal and cardboard. Jean wasn't a hipster, despite Sasha's insistence that all he needed was a plaid shirt and glasses to be one, but he was particular about what he drunk and wouldn't sully his tongue with the crap that machine made.
Although, at the rate he was going, he'd have to put a documentary on in his last lesson and try and sneak a nap behind his desk.
He blinked, forcing himself to focus on the work before him. He grabbed his bottle of water and gulped down a large amount of it, hoping it would wake him up enough so that he could understand what the poorly written sentence meant. After re-reading it three times, he managed to realise what his student was trying to say and wrote small note beside it, telling them that they should try restructuring it to make it easier on the eyes.
Too engrossed in the essay, Jean hadn't noticed Marco Bodt, one of the only other young teachers in the school, walk into the teacher's lounge and towards him. He was a gym teacher, well liked by students and staff alike. He grinned as he walked towards Jean, who was hunched over his work with squinting eyes.
"You look constipated." The gym teacher grinned as he spoke, taking the seat Sasha had just left.
Jean placed his pen down again, looking up to see Marco grinning at him widely. The history teacher narrowed his eyes, though found himself fighting a grin at Marco's infectious smile. Upon seeing this, Marco chuckled.
The two had been close since Jean's first day at the school. Their homeroom classes were sat close together in the weekly assemblies and, when he noticed Jean looking a little nervous, Marco struck up a conversation with him. Three months later, the two young teachers were often found talking and laughing together during their lunch breaks and shared free periods. Sasha joined often, when her schedule allowed, but most of the time it was just the two of them.
Marco looked down to the papers decorating the table, rolling his eyes slightly. He took a seat at the table and placed his lunch in front of him, a small tub of smoking pasta covered in baked beans and chicken. It wasn't something Jean would eat, but he'd noticed that Marco ate it every other day, so it must have been at least palatable.
"You know, I'm pretty sure the chemist down the street sells laxatives. I can get some if you want." Marco continued, still grinning.
"Well, with your comedic talent, I'm sure I'll laugh so hard it'll just fly out of me." Jean replied, sarcasm practically palpable.
"Give me a warning, I've got a bag of unwashed kit in my car, it'll block out the smell." Marco chuckled, looking down at the two piled of essays with a frown. "I thought you were getting better at marking."
"I am. Well, I was," Jean sighed. "Trout face is skipping again so I lost my free period."
Marco nodded in understanding. Jean often had to cover the head of history's lessons, the older teacher having a habit of skipping a day whenever the mood struck him. Sometimes Hanji would cover instead of Jean, but they taught geography and biology as well as history, so their timetable was usually filled up.
The table fell into a gentle silence, the soft murmur of gossiping teachers and the scraping of Jean's pen on the essays the only thing Marco could hear. The gym teacher watched Jean as he ate, half impressed with the dedication he was showing to his students, half glad that teaching gym required so little paperwork and admin in comparison. He grinned at the expression on Jean's face, the history teacher still looked slightly constipated as he worked.
After finishing his pasta and placing the paper tub in the trash, Marco absentmindedly picked up a marked essay and scanned it. He had noting planned for lunch other than talking to Jean, but as that wasn't going to happen he might as well entertain himself.
Jean's eyes flittered up when he noticed the action, watching with slight curiosity as Marco scanned through his student's work. The history teacher looked down to the essay he was marking, deciding it was better to let the other man entertain himself than to fight it.
"I wrote my dissertation on Queen Elizabeth the first." Marco commented as he turned the page on the essay he'd picked up. Jean looked up at him in confusion.
"You told me you took Sports-Science at college."
"As my major, yeah. Took a minor in historical politics. It was fun." Marco smiled, placing the essay back on the pile.
"Sorry, you took a history subject and didn't tell me? After three months of knowing me." Jean placed his pen down, feigning shock. "All these secrets, Marco. Well that's the last straw, I want a divorce."
"Fine, I get custody of Reiner. He's one of the best in my rugby team." Marco grinned.
"Sure, I get Bertholdt though."
"And split them up? You monster!" Marco placed a hand on his chest. "And, honestly, he's just as good as Reiner on the field. Sometimes better if he's in the right mood."
"Bertholdt, really?" Jean chuckled at the thought. "I can't picture that, he's too calm."
"How d'you think he manages that?" Marco grinned. "He tackles the hell out of anyone who annoys him. Seriously, come watch a game one day, the two of them are pretty much impossible to get past."
"I might, remind me when you've got a game next." Jean smiled, picking his pen up to start marking again. "But you took history?"
Marco nodded as he stood up again, slipping some coins into the old drinks machine and ordering a coffee. He sat back down as it began to gurgle into life, knowing the rusty machine would take a while to get him his drink.
"Historical politics, yeah." Marco smiled again. "Really enjoyed it actually. I always preferred the kind of lessons where you get to debate and analyse things over the STEM subjects, they always seemed too constrained. I thought about doing English instead of History, but I looked at the reading list and I don't think I could have handled that much Shakespeare and Jane Austen. I'm glad I didn't, the lectures were great."
"Why'd you stop if you enjoyed it so much?"
"Wasn't where my real passion was, I guess." Marco grinned. "Part of the reason I liked it so much was because I didn't have the same pressure to do well that I did with sports science. And my professor, Erwin, was great. Cliché, inspiring music over montage of his lectures great. But, you know how it goes, if I took it any further I'd probably be stuck with someone monotone who didn't care and all my enthusiasm would just plummet."
Jean nodded, looking back down to his essays. Marco kept an eye on the drinks machine, watching as it haphazardly spurted coffee into the paper cup, droplets of the drink dripping down the side of it. They really needed to convince Levi to replace that. Or to at least let them take a kettle so they could make drinks themselves.
Again, the table descended into a comfortable quietness, this time the sound of the drinks machine filling the space. Jean winced when a few drops of stray coffee landed near the essay of quite an OCD student. How the coffee managed to make it from the counter to the table, Jean didn't know. He thought it best not to think about it, instead opting to move the stack of essays away from the splash zone.
As he did this, a thought struck him. He placed the pile of work down, sat up straight and looked towards Marco.
"If you took history in college, why the hell is it always me covering for trout face instead of you?" Jean glared slightly. Marco was more qualified than the random cover teachers they tried to palm off on the kids.
"That might probably be because hardly anyone here knows I studied it." Marco grinned.
"Why?"
"Well, I heard a rumour that one member of the history department had a habit of bunking off whenever he could. So, I thought 'I don't want to cover for him all the time' so I kept it quiet, that way nobody would consider me to cover his lessons." Marco grinned widely at Jean. "Besides, I've heard great things about the guy who usually does the cover lessons. And I'm sure he loves all the extra, unpaid work he gets."
Jean glared at Marco. "You know I'm gonna tell Levi, right?"
"Are you?" Marco grinned cockily. "Because I took track and wrestling through high school and college, never got below the top three in any competition I was in either. But if you think you can get to Levi without me stopping you, feel free."
Jean rolled his eyes, knowing that Marco was right. He'd let the matter settle… until he got back to his classroom where he'd email Levi, of course.
With a smile, Marco decided to pull a pen from his pocket. He grabbed a handful of the unmarked essays from the pile and brought them closer to him. After placing the essay at the top of the pile before him, he stood up and walked over to the drinks machine, picking up the nearly overflowing drink. He noticed Jean watching him with a frown on his face.
"What? I sat through the meeting on how to properly mark work, I've written enough about Queen Lizzy to get by and, unless you're secretly The Flash, you won't finish before lunch ends." Marco chuckled. "Consider this my payment for your silence on my qualifications."
"You sure? Marking literally is hell on earth." Jean asked, shrugging when Marco nodded. "Fine, as long as all the long sentences don't hurt your brain. You'll need that so you can tell kids how to properly throw rubber balls at each other."
"One more wisecrack from you, Kirstein, and you'll be running laps in your underwear." Marco grinned back when Jean laughed.
They both began to focus on the work before them again, Marco not quite as fast as Jean was but managing to make good time. The freckled coach occasionally sipped at the drink, Jean grimacing in disgust every time he noticed it. Honestly, how Marco managed to swallow the disgusting beverage was beyond him.
Upon reading one essay, Marco had to stop. He frowned slightly, re-read the paragraph and then glanced down at some of the other essays that he'd already marked. After his thoughts had been concerned, he began to laugh. Jean looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Apparently Queen Elizabeth the first, who died just over four hundred years ago, recently celebrated her ninety-first birthday in April. She also appeared in the twenty-twelve Olympics opening ceremony." Marco laughed, Jean closing his eyes in exasperation. "You know, I'm glad someone's finally brought this up. Too many dead people think that, just because their heart stopped beating, they can just be lazy. It's nice to know she's still active."
Jean didn't share Marco's amusement, picking up the essay with a sigh as he read through it. Upon seeing Marco wasn't lying, he quietly mumbled. "You actually googled the wrong queen."
Marco cackled, deciding to let Jean choose how he wanted to approach that particular essay as he picked up another one from the pile. The new piece of work was already an improvement, given that it actually focused on correct person.
The two began to focus on marking again, Marco absently noticing Jean's mannerisms when he was working. When an essay was good, Jean would nibble on the end of his pen and have a small, almost proud smile on his face. When an essay wasn't good, he would continually shake his head, tut and keep his pen poised for corrections and notes in the margins. Marco saw a lot more of the tutting and head shaking than he did the pen chewing. Still, both were quite endearing in the gym teacher's eyes.
When Jean leant back on his chair to stretch and look at the clock to see how long he had left, he caught a glimpse of Marco as he sipped the steaming coffee. When he saw the gym teacher's freckled face contort into a grimace, Jean had to roll his eyes. Why the stubborn man insisted on drinking that crap, he didn't know; he could easily get a caffeine fix from an energy drink if he needed one.
'Maybe I should get some Red Bull or something.' Jean mused in his head.
With another yawn from Jean, he looked down to his marking. He immediately frowned when he looked at the first, opening paragraph where the student had introduced who Queen Elizabeth I was. He had to laugh, running a hand through his hair. Marco looked up at him with curious amusement.
"According to Thomas, she was called the 'Virgin Queen' as an ironic name because secretly, she 'got a lot of action.' He's actually starting an essay by insinuating that she was a whore." Jean shook his head in amusement and astonishment.
"I hope there's a citation, I'd love to see that source." Marco grinned, looking back down to the essays again.
"I'll let you know when I finish." Jean chuckled.
With a wide smile, Marco nodded and began to mark the essay in front of him. Thankfully, this student seemed to care about their grade as their essay was well researched and they'd obviously put a significant amount of effort into it. Marco began to hum slightly as he worked, not noticing Jean's amused smile as the history teacher listened to the impromptu and gentle tune his friend was making.
Jean leant back in his chair after glancing at the clock. With both of them marking at the rate they were, it'd be done with time to spare. The history teacher picked up the sandwich that had only been nibbled at, thankful that Marco continued to mark his work when he saw this. The history teacher's mouth opened wide in an audible yawn, small bags under his eyes now visible. Marco looked up at the sound of the yawn, smiling.
"Tired?" He teased.
"Little bit." Jean smiled back. "Couple next door were arguing again, hardly got any sleep."
"Sounds fun." Marco smiled, picking up his cup of coffee and motioning to Jean with it. "Want some, it'll perk you up."
"You sound like my mom." Jean chuckled. "And I'll pass. Because, and I really do mean this, I'd rather die of thirst."
"Aw, it's not that bad."
The hesitance in Marco's voice told Jean even he wasn't confident in what he had said. Marco was one of only few teachers working at the school who used the drinks machine, most people had decided that one taste of the drinks it offered was enough and used the vending machine or brought in in something themselves. Jean didn't know why Marco continued to use it, most likely out of stubbornness, but the history teacher was certain his friend gave the damn thing more than half the money it made.
"Besides." Marco continued. "You look like you're gonna fall asleep before we finish. And I know who you're teaching at the end of the day, if you fall asleep they'll draw all over your face."
"Why would they do that?"
Marco leant forward in his chair slightly, smiling mischievously. "Because I teach them just before you and I'll tell them to."
Jean rolled his eyes, though knew that Marco probably would do that if he was in the mood. Instead of continuing, Jean finished what remained of his sandwich and hunched over the desk, scanning the essay as quickly as he could and marking it. Marco did the same, not before placing the polystyrene cup next to Jean with an expectant expression.
The history teacher looked at it for a moment, then at Marco's face. The two held eye contact for a few seconds, Marco making it obvious he wasn't going to back down. Jean lifted the cup towards his face and sniffed it tentatively, Marco rolling his eyes and gesturing him to continue. With a grimace and a sigh, Jean looked down at it again before bringing it to his lips and throwing it down the back of his throat as if taking a shot.
At his expression, Marco began to laugh boisterously. Jean's face was contorted into a mixture of a cringe of disgust, regret at his actions and annoyance at Marco for making him do it. Marco grinned widely at him, trying to stop his laughter.
"If you consider that to be 'not that bad' then you must have burnt your taste buds off without realising." Jean grumbled, wishing he had left some of his sandwich to take the taste away.
"Honestly, the stuff I drink at home isn't much better. I guess I'm just used to it."
After speaking, Marco reached down to his bag and pulled out cereal bar he had forgotten to eat during the morning break. He handed it to jean, who accepted it with a thankful smile. After taking a large bite of the snack, which did wonders for removing the taste with the slightly tart strawberries, Jean looked to Marco with a frown.
"So you cant even have a nice cup of coffee when you're home?" He questioned.
"I guess not. When I moved out, I took the old percolator that my parents never used, and I've never had enough money to warrant replacing it." Marco explained. "I don't have coffee at home much anyway, apart from in the morning when I need it to wake me up. I mainly have tea or hot chocolate if I want something warm."
"So if you don't have it at home, when was the last time you actually had a real, drinkable cup of coffee?"
Marco thought for a moment, his head tilting ever so slightly as he thought back. After a moment, he answered. "The last week of high school."
If Marco had thought Jean pulled an odd expression when he drank the coffee, the history teacher's face must have looked like surrealist art when he heard Marco's reply. He was a mixture of disbelief, confusion and disgust at the idea that Marco was capable of doing such a thing. Marco chuckled at him, waiting for Jean to speak.
"You're twenty-five, you left high school at eighteen, right?" When Marco nodded, Jean seemed even more confused and disgusted. "How have you managed to be an adult for seven years and not once had good coffee?"
"Just did, I guess. In college, we lived close to a store that sold all types of tea, so I spent almost all the money I had for drinks in there. After I graduated, I got a job here and, as I said, didn't have any real reason to buy something new." Marco then grinned. "I thought about going to a coffee shop a few times, but they're always filled with students."
"Seven years." Jean repeated in disbelief. "Yeah, I'm going to have to divorce you."
"You know my terms." Marco grinned. "I don't see why it's such a big deal to you."
"Because coffee is basically a gift from heaven." Jean exclaimed, Marco rolling his eyes playfully. The action seemed to spur Jean. "See! If you actually knew how good it can taste, you wouldn't act like that."
The freckled coach simply chuckled again and placed the last essay on the finished pile, leaning back on the chair and stretching his leg. He smiled at Jean, amused at how agitated the other man seemed to be at his drinking tendencies. It was endearing. Of late, Marco found a lot of things Jean did endearing. Perhaps it was time to act on those feelings.
"Well, we got paid last week and I've not got any clubs to run today. If you can find me a coffee shop without any students to bother us, I'll happily be proven wrong."
"You're on." Jean grinned. "I'll take you to great little place near the library and you'll see what an idiot you're being."
"Okay then." Marco laughed gently. "It's a date."
Jean blushed slightly at the phrasing, looking up to Marco who was also somewhat reddened by what he had said. The two sat in silence, looking at each other before Marco spoke again, slightly quiet and almost nervous.
"If you want it to be, I mean."
"Er, yeah." Jean nodded. "I'd like that."
"Good. Me too." Marco practically beamed
The school bell rang loudly, telling them that they both needed to get to their lessons. Jean scooped up his essays, all now marked, as Marco waited for him. The two walked side by side down the corridor, occasionally glancing towards each other and smiling. They were still slightly red in the face, but seemed to be enjoying each other's silent company in the raucous hallways.
When they got to a fork in the corridor where they would have to leave each other, they both stopped. Marco smiled down at Jean before speaking.
"I guess I'll see you after class." Marco grinned. "I'm looking forward to it."
"Course you are, you're finally gonna have a good drink after years of torturing your mouth."
"Yeah, that's definitely the only reason I'm excited." Marco chuckled, his face settling into a soft smile. "See you later, then."
"See you."
They both lingered for a moment before turning away from each other, walking to their respective lessons. Upon leaving the building and crossing the school yard to his classroom, Jean watched as the small flakes of snow fell from the sky and landed on the ground, disappearing when they did. He continued to walk, sporting both a smile and a blush. As he entered his classroom and placed the essays on their respective desks, he knew he'd be happy, satisfied, upbeat and awake for the rest of the day. And neither the coffee, nor the winter weather, had a damn thing to do with it.