Subbing is shit.

Sebastian is tired of deciphering roll calls, of getting lost in new hallways, of students thinking they can pull shit just cause "he's not their real teacher" - well sorry you little fuck, Mrs. What's-her-face is fucking sick again, so just do the fucking worksheet and shove it up your own ass.

Yet another fucking Monday. He gets up early, and checks his email to see if he has a job for today. Some random-ass math class in some random-ass high school for some random-ass Mr. Fuck-his-face. Sebastian sighs. He hopes they're watching a video in class today.

He gets up and wanders into the bathroom, wondering if he's desperate enough to try and smoke while showering. His phone pings while he's brushing his teeth, alerting Sebastian of a new email with an automated subject from the subbing agency saying "New Assignment".

"Fuckers," he mutters, hating that he's getting transferred five minutes before leaving. Opening the email, he checks to see which shithole he'll be rotting in today – Anderson High. His heart stops, and his Monday-morning lethargy is chased away by a rising heart rate. This is okay. This is definitely okay. He rinses and spits, checking himself in the mirror while he straightens back up, surprised at the small smile playing at his lips.

It's not that Anderson High is anything special, he overthinks to bring his newfound excitement down. It's still a labyrinth of dirty tiles filled with the stench of sweat and rubber. But he's subbed for Adler's class before and he... enjoys it. More importantly, he enjoys Ms. Adler's 2nd period English class.

No – It's just a student, he thinks, scowling again. And when the fuck did he start caring about his looks? As he deliberately stops his hands trying to tame his messy bedhead, choosing to clench them into fists by his sides, before reaching for the keys

Alright, but maybe subbing isn't that bad.

He can't help but quicken his pace from the parking lot to the front office. There's some strange energy pushing him forward, making him look toward teaching today. It scares him, that as he received his substitute badge from the office this strange energy has him smiling back at the receptionist with a soft "Thanks".

Fuck. What is wrong with him?

It's as he settles into absent-Ms. Adler's classroom and sees the unoccupied desks that his eyes fall to the last row, the desk in the corner by the window that he knows. That's what is wrong him.

He remembers his first time subbing here, going quickly through the roll call till he reached a James Moriarty.

"Jim?" He called out, feeling less enthusiastic than the students themselves.

"It's James," is when Sebastian finally looked up, making eye contact with the source of the accent, surprised at the strength of the glare he met.

"James?" He asked to confirm, still staring. The boy didn't move, didn't blink, didn't look away. Neither did Seb. "Well, Jim, Ms. Adler is gone and she left me as the boss. And so when I say your name, Jim, you say 'here'. Jim?"

No reply.

He's used to have to assert his dominance over students. Students who think they're so funny for switching seats when there's a sub, or students who think turning in month-late assignments to the sub is better than handing them to the teacher. Seb usually throws such rubbish where it belongs – into the trash and deals with the consequences later.

And if that first day taught him anything (maybe in the form of a surprising parking ticket on his –totally legally- parked car) is that the consequences sure are damning.

He sits through and moderates the first period with bubbly nerves and a bouncing leg. It's just... excitement that's all. Jim's an interesting kid.

Like that time the class was up and yelling and fighting, and Seb sat aside having no desire to care about who was dating who or whatever the school's gossip club was on this week, and after the first punch was thrown and the second chair broken, Jim simply cleared his throat loud enough to be heard, and Seb watched in subtle awe at the way each student quietly took their seats and just – stopped.

Mr. Moran was suddenly very interested in the school gossip then, and curious and what power a certain 17 year old had.

Or the next time he subbed and the fire alarms went off, forcing Seb to get up with a sigh, and hold the door open for every kid gossiping and texting their friends omggg? Is this another drill or did you pull it to get out of the math quiz? Lol :P

Seb rolled his eyes after sneaking a peek at that particular text, from the last student walking out the doors. He turned back to grab his jacket off his chair, when he saw the kid in the last desk in the last row, calmly pulling out a pack.

"Excuse you?"

"Don't worry, It's nothing serious. Had a kid from the grade below pull it for me. Thought it'd be nice to have a smoke at school while not hiding in a bathroom stall." Jim said casually, grabbing a cigarette from the pack. "I know you have a lighter in your left pocket. Be kind enough for a light, Mr. Moran?"

His stare had stopped Sebastian in his tracks, and seeing the cig droop from that mouth, and that tongue help lift it and balance it – and then him just leaning his face closer, as if Seb would just light it for him, as if his hands couldn't just grab it himself

Well that sure did something for the substitute.

"If I don't get one for another hour and half, then you sure as hell don't either," Sebastian had said, shaking it off and snatching the cig from Jim's mouth and shoving it into his pocket.

The unwavering glare he got in return surely did something more for the substitute.

Seb shifted his position under the desk, trying to clear his thoughts and checked his watch. Another hour left of this period. Seb sighed.

I am not attracted to a student, he repeated to himself, as if a mantra in an oath he had sworn upon. I am not.

Then his mind went to the time Jim had come into class two minutes late, a deep scowl on his face, and a deep bruise blooming across one eye.

Seb stood up quickly when he saw Jim, the chair falling behind him with a big crash. His eyes followed to boy in a hurry to get to his seat. He saw Jim just stare into the space in front of him, a quiet fury across his features, and Seb thinks he could see the wheels turning in Jim's mind, till the red took over and he just got straight fucking pissed.

The students all think Mr. Moran is now just very strict about being late to class, but Seb just needed to know who the fuck would dare even think about touching Jim and needed to know where he can bury the soon-to-be-sorry fucker.

He remembered that day with a grimace. He also remembers being sent home early, and seeing the look of pure, unfiltered sincerity on Jim's face as he got "escorted" out of the classroom.

I do not care for a student. The bell rang then, and Seb stood up and stared at the clock, like an overgrown puppy hearing keys in the lock.

Fuck, he thought falling back into his chair. Cold ran through his veins his realization. I think I'm in love with a student.

The bell rang again and he realized he missed all the students coming in. With a hidden frantic, he checked all the desks, making sure they were all full – including the last desk in the last row. Jim sat there leaning back, looking as smug as ever.

"Alright, you slackers," Mr. Moran stood up to start roll. "You know the drill. I say your name, you say here. Nina?"

"Here."

And on, and on, the familiar names passed and Seb didn't even have to look up to know which student was replying.

"Jim?"

"Call me James, Sebby," The usual banter was assisted by a new nickname, causing Seb to look up.

"And call me Mr. Moran, Jim."

"Oh, but that's so ordinary."

The hour and a half that followed was filled with 32 worksheets, 2 papercuts, numerous winks from the back of the classroom, and a slowly-building frustration that Seb couldn't reply back to Jim from the front of the class.

The bell rang, and the students left without a dismissal. They rush out faster than they file in, till Jim walked the long way around the rows of desks, leading him straight across the teachers desk.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Moran," Jim said, throwing it behind his shoulder as he walked out.

"Likewise," Seb called after him, probably sounding far too loud and excited.

It was the last period of the day, which – thank all things holy – Ms. Adler had as a break, which means Seb did too. He snuck to the backside of the school for a smoke away from students and more importantly, security cameras. Usually Seb didn't care, but when it pays the rent, he decided to take the rules to be a highly suggested request.

He had just lit one, and closed his eyes to enjoy the first drag, when someone snatched it out of his mouth. Sebastian snapped his eyes open and clenched a fist ready to throw, till he saw who it was and tried to ignore the memory of their fingers brushing his lips.

"Aren't you a little young still?" Seb said, grabbing another from his pack without question.

"Oh, I got two weeks till the legal age." James said, expertly blowing out smoke, looking like the glory of Rome leaning against the brick wall.

"For smoking, eh? That's, what, 18?" Seb just drank in the sight, feeling the poison from the cigarette less effective than the poison looking downright sinful next to him.

"18," James confirmed, making that unwavering eye contact again, as if looks could kill and Seb just locked himself in on death row.

Realization dawned on Seb, and he raised an eyebrow, holding on to that stare like a lifeline. "Oh. So, should I expect Ms. Adler to be 'out of commission' for a while then?"

"You know how I work, Bastian."

I'm in love with a student. And I think he might just love me back.