Hot for Teacher

Summary: There has never been a single student that Professor Byakuya Kuchiki couldn't handle, until he came face to face with a certain orange haired pest.

Rating: T because of the language. M-rating as things heat up.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite. The title of the story is from the song by Van Halen.

Chapter One

Karakura High School , 8:15 a.m

The bell rang out across the school grounds, cutting through the laughter and chatter of the students milling about in the sunshine. Few took notice as a sleek white sedan rolled in through the gates and made its way to the parking lot, though it did draw a couple of comments, for the car was obviously new and obviously expensive.

The sedan whispered into a vacant spot; a few seconds later, with a click of keys and the rustle of a briefcase, Byakuya Kuchiki emerged.

Unlike the car, the man attracted considerably more attention. As he strode towards the school, Byakuya was aware of the stares of the students; curious, assessing. Is he a new teacher? Look, boys and girls, fresh meat. As he entered the hallway and walked past a knot of girls, he heard a whispered giggle: " My god, he's hot." He ignored it and continued towards the western corridor, where the staffroom and the principal's office were located, and where he'd been interviewed yesterday for the vacancy.

"Good morning, Professor Kuchiki, please take a seat."

"Thank you."

"I see you're here to apply for the vacant position of English Literature."

"Indeed."

"Pardon my saying so, but you seem to be a bit over-qualified for the post. A perfect score in the university qualifying examination, a master's degree in world literature, did your Ph.D at Columbia University with a thesis on the works of Shakespeare…um…followed by a stint of teaching at Yale…wow!" Principal Urahara looked up with a smile. "With such an impressive resume, you could easily land a prestigious job at one of our universities. Forgive my asking, but why did you choose to come here?"

"My health is not what it once was. Teaching at a high school will be a lesser strain for me than the rigors of university life. I know my subject very well, so it should not be much of a problem."

"Of course. I understand that you had to face some, er, unpleasantness in your previous position. Is that why you quit?"

Byakuya's features hardened, but his tone was even:" There was a slight misunderstanding. I was not given a chance to clear matters and was unfairly targeted. So I decided to leave."

The principal looked at him thoughtfully, and nodded. He stamped the school seal on Byakuya's application, stood up, reached over the desk and shook hands. "You shall begin tomorrow, Professor Kuchiki."

Byakuya entered the outer office and walked up to the desk where the principal's secretary, Nanao Ise, was seated. She rose to greet him briskly. "Good morning, Professor Kuchiki. Here's your schedule for this academic year." She watched him as he scanned the sheet of paper, and cleared her throat. "By the way, I'm not supposed to be telling you this, but there are certain groups of students you'll need to watch out for."

"There always are." responded Byakuya absently, his eyes still on the schedule.

"These are more irritating than your average delinquent. The staff hears weekly reports of their antics, and I'm sorry to say that they have acquired glamor and a fan following among the students. No teacher with self-preservation will interfere with them, and those who did have always paid dearly. Most of them are in the senior year and are concentrated in Classes 17-A and B."

Byakuya paused. "Interesting. The first class I'm going to teach is 17-A."

"Which is why I warned you."

He finally looked up, his clear grey eyes staring at Nanao as a faint smile crossed his face. "Don't worry, Miss Ise. There has never been a student I couldn't handle."

Class 17-A, 8:25 a.m

"IIIIIIII~CHHIIIIIIII~GOOOOOO !" *POW*

The noise was loud enough to make everyone pause for a second, look at the scene and shake their heads; Asano Keigo, the class clown, passed out on the floor with blood streaming from his nose, said nose having been broken on impact with a clenched fist. Now, the owner of said fist casually sauntered in, taking care to wipe his shoes on Keigo's shirt before moving to his desk.

Renji Abarai saw this and rolled his eyes. When will that moron ever learn? He must be retarded...or a masochist. He should have been named Ass-ano. He turned to acknowledge his classmate. "Yo. You're early today."

Ichigo Kurosaki shrugged off his backpack. "Yeah, well, I couldn't sleep." He folded his arms and glared darkly at the blackboard, in an obviously foul mood.

Renji was about to point out that lack of sleep had never prevented Ichigo from showing up whenever he liked, but thought better of it. He grinned and clapped Ichigo on the back. "I've got news to cheer ya up, bro. Before you punctured Keigo's face, he was telling me that we've got a new English teacher this semester."

"Oh yeah?"

"Uh huh. He heard it from Mahana and Ikkaku in 17-B. Mahana thinks he looks hot," Renji wrinkled his nose "while Ikkaku thinks he's got a rod up his ass. Either way, it might get interesting. We ought to give our new sensei a warm welcome."

Ichigo looked at him, his eyes lightening with amusement. "Like what? Drawing a welcome message on the board decorated with tits?"

"Nah, we did that for ol' Maki-Maki. Maybe we could send him a ribbon-wrapped bottle of toilet wine. Or do a custom remodeling of his car. Or gift him a couple of Molotov cocktails in the staff room. Let's discuss it with our guys from 17-B sometime. Great minds think alike when they come together."

Ichigo contemplated this, then shook his head. "Nope, not now. Let's wait and see what this teacher is going to be like. If he's alright and minds his own shit, we don't mess with with him. If he turns out to be a dick like the others," Ichigo smiled evilly,"then we'll just have to school him."

Author note: My take on the classic student-teacher love story. So what do you think? This is my first story and I want to improve, so feel free to comment or criticise. Criticise, not flame, because simply hurling abuse is not going to make me a better writer and I'll just ignore you.